cooks – Kathy Waller

David made banana pudding.

I’d planned to make it myself. We had spotty bananas. David made a special trip to HEB for sugar, flour, cream of tartar, vanilla wafers, and other ingredients Miss Myra required.

Then I ran out of steam.

That was Friday.

Saturday the bananas were even spottier. Definitely on their way out.

I was the same, minus spots.

That’s when David said the magic words: “Shall I make banana pudding?”

Who was I to say him nay? I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.

I emailed him the link to Miss Myra’s Banana Pudding recipe. He took his Chromebook to the kitchen, pulled up the web page, located the egg separator I gave him last Christmas (not dreaming he would ever have reason to use it), and got cooking.

I sat.

The result is pictured below.

After the pudding chilled awhile, David sampled and pronounced it good. He said it tasted like someone else made it.

I wanted a bite but, having feasted on the extra vanilla wafers and milk, I was in no mood to partake. Mañana.

The point I wish to make: David is a saint. An angel. A veritable paragon of virtue.

Or, as Polly Pepper would say, David is a brick.