Dollars and Sense

When Roger works late, I usually make a simple dinner.  Sandwiches or soup or leftovers, you know, something quick.  Roger worked late quite a few nights last week.  One night, I fried some eggs and served them over toast. (Also, I think we're commenting too often on how much more expensive things are here.)

Maura (looking sadly at her egg and then looking at me):  Are we poor, Mom?  Is that why we can't eat a real dinner?

Me: No, honey we're not poor.  We're just eating something quick and easy to clean up since dad isn't here for dinner.

Maura (looking back down at her plate):  But you would tell me, wouldn't you?  If we were too poor to buy real food?