One of the few things I look forward to about Mondays - okay, about the ONLY thing - is settling in with a chilled glass of my favorite white wine and lusting over his majesty and master chef, Jacques Pepin.The man has the most gorgeous set - filled with very lovely kitchen appliances, knives, pots and pans - I have EVER seen!

Seriously. The man can cook the heck out of anything, especially on a weekday evening. He's fast, entertaining and cooks in a way - with that French accent of his - that can even make the simplest pizza look sexy.

Me, not so much.

Oh, I used to cook. Real food. But, you know. After kids - not to mention copious amounts of fish sticks, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese served with chicken nuggets - I've since lost touch with my inner-chef.

Imagine my surprise when the hubs brought home a lobster - about the size of my youngest daughter - and said:

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetie...if you need me...I'll be outside, shoveling!"

Nothing says, "I love you," like lobster and has to be, like, the ultimate in take-out food, I thought.

"Wow, it's like raining pop rocks and skittles out there, and you went and bought me dinner!?!?!"

Then, the screaming started.

"Ewwww, grooooss, it's still ALIVE!"

It took a moment, but, once they were able to calm me down, the kids insisted that they would take care of dinner!

"Just like that cooker man on t.v., with the funny accent, you know, just like Papa!"

[raises eyebrow]

"Papa's Hungarian."

[four sets of shrugging shoulders]

"Same thing."

So, as today is Friday - no cooking on pizza and movie night - I would like to share with you some of the highlights of a very romantic Valentine's Day dinner, prepared and served by my children, their way.

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This is Mini-Me and -- because she does NOT do lobster -- is the official "flower-holder-upper" and is hostess with the mostest , tooo-nuht!

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Chef Little Man is put to task, right away, and prepares the lobster by petting it and giving it a name - Sebastian.

Thing One - being the oldest and having had the fortunate opportunity of having to dissect one during science class, just last month - gives a quick lesson on which parts of the lobster a person should (and should not) eat and is reminded exactly it is why she, too, does NOT do lobster.

Chef Little Man is put to task, once more (it's good to have a brother) and attempts to remove the bands of Sebastian's restraint.

He finds it a bit more slippery and rather difficult to, you know, hold the sucker and quickly seeks assistance from Chef Thing Two.

ASSISTANCE...ASSISTANCE!

Enter sous chef Mommy with her makeshift lobster mitts!

Oh no, the lobster's too big, it does NOT fit!

No matter, or Jacques would say, "Iz purr-fec-tally fiii-nuh, jus git aye-nutter pot!"

Then, after a bit of screaming (because I am a WIMP!) I was able to, somehow, throw the lobster in the pot, because, you know, I closed my eyes, and then ran away, really fast. After about, oh, seven meenuts or zoh, Chef Thing Two and Chef Little Man decided it was time to check if Sebastian had, you know, ceased to exist.

He hadn't.

Not until 5:59 p.m. (est) officially.

I've always heard that giant lobsters (those weighing over 2 lbs.) tend to be tough - it was, let me tell you, preparing for this meal was hard! A lot like Silence of the Lambs, really. I think I can still hear the screaming. Eh, but the kids did a great job - didn't they set a simply lovely table? - and it's like what another favorite chef of mine Anthony Bourdain always says:

"You're slower than me. You're stupider than me. And you taste good. I will eat you!"

TGIF and happy cooking!

[Edited to add:  It's Tuesday, already and would you believe, with the long weekend plans ahead of us, I wrote this on Friday and FORGOT to hit publish.  Yes?  Of course you would, because I am a DORK!]