Mom: Daughter, what's for dinner? It's your turn.
Daughter: Mooooommm! I can't make dinner. I can't cook!
Mom: Sure you can, what's for dinner?
Daughter, squinting: I can't read a cookbook. Those are little, tiny words. I can only read big words.
Mom: Son, what's for dinner?
Son: Hmm... I need the cookbook.
The Boy climbs up the step-stool to try and reach the cook books.
Son: Mom! Help! I can't reach the cookbook.
The lovely and talented wife hands the Boy a cookbook.
Son: Not this one.
Mom: Yes, this one is fine.
Son: Ok. Hmm...
Pretends to peruse the book for a moment.
Son: Let's eat chicken and rice.
Mom: Ok.
The Boy climbs down and proceeds to the pantry and starts opening the rice.
Mom: Whoa there, mister. I'll take it from here.

She did ask.