Butter Chicken Delivery

We got a text message from a family in our neighborhood who's son is in my son's class today.  They live a few blocks away but we've done social things with them on occasion.   They are very outgoing and I am certain to have many friends.   Everyone we know has such nice things to say about them.   We've been to an auction experience two years ago where they cooked traditional southern Indian food for us in their home.   If they offered it again, I'd sign up—their cooking is excellent.

Which is why when my husband got a text today from them, asking if we'd like some butter chicken they were making to share with friends, we didn't hesitate on saying yes.  I wasn't concerned about getting food from someone else; the food we buy from a restaurant or grocery store has, at some point, been interacted with by at least one person.   Getting overly paranoid doesn't help.  Therein lies madness as far as that goes for me.  

They delivered the food at five o'clock with a letter to my son from Liam, their son.   They had a note on the bag from them as well:



What a lovely gesture.  And what delicious food.

The Big Boy Update:  Today was hot here in the mid 80's.   The children had a lot of fun outside.   My daughter came in when her brother was passing her, going back out.   She said as he passed, "I'm just about to go put myself in the freezer."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My son took apart a complex wooden puzzle that was for decoration purposes on a shelf.   I said he had to put it back together, which I knew would be tough.   He worked on it for a while and when I though he was going to give up he said, "I think I'm on to something."  He was, and he's got a good idea on how to put it together.   The trouble is, all pieces are different and he hasn't figured out the final ordering yet.