So here I am, making dinner, boiling lentils, marinating chicken, cleaning up as I go along when my husband gets home. He walks in, sniffs the air and asks, with a scrunched up face “What’s that smell?”

“Lentils.” I answer whilst stirring them.

“Lentils?” He asks with a whine.

‘Here we go...’ I think to myself.

“I want something with more protein.” He says, obviously pouting.

“Lentils have protein, and we’re having chicken with them as well.”

“That’s not enough... I want pizza.” (Because pizza totally has more protein than my well balanced meal that I have been cooking with love.)

“You always want pizza.” I reply.

“Yes, but pizza sounds especially good today.” (My husband literally talks like this, I’m not changing any of his words.) “But you’ve already started cooking so I guess Lentils will be fine...” he finishes with a heavy sigh as he flops and starts watching YouTube.

Am I alone in this, it’s almost like he’s never happy with my food unless it’s pizza, pasta, tuna, pork, stew, or chili.