“maybe we should order food. Not everyone wants what you’ve cooked. I don’t know if everyone enjoys your cooking, either. Every aspect of Christmas is supposed to be enjoyed by everyone. They should enjoy the food, too!”I was completely blindsided by her words. I saw John leaning against the archway, nibbling on a carrot. He altogether avoided my gaze, looking over me and out the window across the room. I held back my tears and bit my lip.The guests were almost all present, sitting all over the house, and I didn’t want to put a damper on the dinner, even if Liz had hurt me. Dinner rolled around, and the table groaned beneath the weight of the food.

My guests, John included, were digging in and singing praises for the food I had been cooking for most of the day. “The food’s great, right? Everyone’s enjoying it?” John asked the table.His uncle laughed and helped himself to another serving of roasted potatoes. “Why wouldn’t we enjoy my sister’s food?” my brother said. “Because Liz said that the dinner might be ruined by Mom’s dishes. She wanted us to order in.” “Nonsense!” my brother exclaimed, drowning his potatoes in gravy.John looked at me and smiled. Which was when I realized that my sweet boy’s silence wasn’t meant to hurt me. No. He was trying to bide his time until he could teach Liz a lesson and embarrass her in front of our family. Liz turned red from his comment as everyone stared at her. I’ll admit that I felt bad for her. It was her first Christmas with us, and already, it wasn’t looking promising.Later on, when I was in the kitchen again, packing the dishwasher and emptying dishes of food, Liz came in. “Kate, I’m sorry,” my daughter-in-law said. “I was so wrong to do what I did. I am sorry, please understand.” “Understand what?” I asked her. I did feel bad, yes. But I was still hurt.Later on, when I was in the kitchen again, packing the dishwasher and emptying dishes of food, Liz came in. “Kate, I’m sorry,” my daughter-in-law said. “I was so wrong to do what I did. I am sorry, please understand.” “Understand what?” I asked her. I did feel bad, yes. But I was still hurt.”I only said that because John loves your food. He always talks about how you make all these special things for him. I can’t make a basic mac and cheese without him saying yours is better. I looked at the food, smelt all the delicious smells from this kitchen, and panicked.””Liz, you should know that a boy and his mother’s food is a relationship in and of itself,” I laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. “I can teach you how to cook just like me. My mother taught me everything I know.” “Really?” she asked. “Even after I’ve been so horrible?” “Yes,” I said with a softening smile. Then, I led her to the Christmas tree, ready to give Liz her present. I still think the whole thing hurts me, but I’m grateful she didn’t say what she said for a nasty reason. Liz felt threatened by John’s relationship with my food instead of fostering a relationship with Liz’s cooking. But I can teach her.If the same thing had happened to you, what would you have done? Would you have been silent until the truth came out, like me? Or would you have retaliated immediately? But here’s another story for you: After losing her husband, Eliza, in a bid to ensure the happiness of her son, insists on meeting his girlfriend. Eliza is excited to meet her and goes out of her way to prepare for her arrival but is horrified when she finally comes face to face with her.