ETA: A STORY (WHEREIN YOUR HERO IS LARGELY AT FAULT)

So, for the last few weeks, my mother (Lieta Broaddus), who lives with us, and I have been in an unspoken cold war. It started when I criticized her spaghetti dish.

WHERE WERE Y’ALL WHEN I FIXED MY LIPS TO CORRECT A 75-YEAR-OLD, BLACK, JAMAICAN WOMAN’S RECIPE? Praise Jesus, I’m still here.

You’d have thought I learned my lesson a long time ago. The reason I’m a good cook is because of a joke I made a long time ago. My then newlywed white wife (Sally J Broaddus) fixed me a casserole. I *jokingly* referred to casseroles as a possible hate crime. I then spent the next thirteen years making the family meals.

Anyway, the following week, my mom made a meat sauce and may have said with NO ATTITUDE AT ALL that I should make the pasta. The next day, I made Chicken Marsala.

Things kept escalating. The last two weeks featured her making Chicken Maryland (“mom, that’s not chicken Maryland. That’s jerk chicken you topped with pineapple.” #praiseJesusagain) I responded with Chicken Bruschetta with angel hair pasta and balsamic glaze.

My wife: You know how uncomfortable it makes me when you and your mom fight. *switches from her jeans to sweatpants* #justkeepeating

After negotiations, we decided to join forces for Thanksgiving. My mom would make the main dishes. I was relegated to sides.

My oldest son (Reese Broaddus): I don’t want your Karen macaroni. Have your brother make it.

See? I’m not the only one with jokes. My now former son got his way.

My brother (Anthony Broaddus): I’ll make it, but that’s the only time I’m leaving this couch. Come pick it up. And when you do, take my trash out. #missiongoals

Thus, our meal came together. As I sit here in my formal dinner attire (my Wakandan shirt and my Nap or Nothing sweatpants), I’m thankful for friends and family. Speaking of, I’m about to text my sister something obnoxious, that way it’s a typical family dinner.