After dinner one night, it occurred to me that the people in my family (those who share my household, not those who have visited as guests) hardly ever, if ever, thank me for cooking meals other than the ones they happen to like.
That stings a bit. The hundreds (thousands!) of times I prepare food, the only time I get a thanks is when picky people are actually pleased with what I’ve prepared.
I don’t like to be a Negative Nelly and I don’t approve of sulking, even when I’m the one doing it. I share these wistful thoughts because I have a positive remedy.
I wonder what things I neglect in telling or showing my family. What things do they do that go unappreciated by me? Please, God, open my eyes!