When Hallie strolled into the kitchen to offer my mom and me one of her homemade popsicles (created out of notebook paper and using crayons, scissors, and glue) and to announce that her hunger had reached a "near starvation" level, I asked her if she wanted to help me start dinner by firing up the grill.
She paused, cocked her head to one side, and with a roll of her eyes, informed me that "girls don't grill".
My head swiveled away from and back to her in the most authentic of double takes, and I heard a confused, "excuse me?!" escape my lips.
She repeated herself. "Girls don't grill, Mama."
In her defense, Hallie hasn't seen me spend a great deal tending either our charcoal or gas grill. Tom handles the majority of the grilling at home because 1) he enjoys the process, and 2) I prefer handling the preparatory work in my air conditioned kitchen over standing outside next to a fiery metal sphere on an already sweltering summer evening in Texas. I do, however, know my way around a grill, so when Hallie questioned my skills - and the grilling skills of my entire gender - I set out to show her how wrong she was.
30 minutes later I served up a delicious marinated flank steak, along with corn on the cob and roasted green beans, to my kiddos and parents. 15 minutes after that I wrapped up dinner with a grilled pineapple "sundae" (topped with homemade whipped cream) for dessert.
I think I showed her that yes, in fact, girls CAN grill.