I got Annie's Shells and White Cheddar, which is mac and cheese in a box, to help me through the busy nights. We got back today at only ten minutes until dinner time, which is kind of a disaster for the circadian rhythm of my household. But luckily, the box promises "Annie's Way in 10 Minutes." I assume these products are marketed in large part to parents and families, so it is a little confusing that apparently no one at the company has ever actually made mac and cheese and timed the real process.
The ten minutes is the time it takes the pasta to cook, and then make the cheese sauce. Of course, they don't include the time it takes for the water to boil. You can try to get around that by putting a pan on to boil while you are still getting children and gear into the house from the car.
The pot starts boiling at some point, and maybe that is the countdown they intended to indicate. The 10 minutes apparently doesn't include reminding your children to put all their outdoor stuff back in their cubbies, or when they have to get their things from the car but are afraid to go alone, but all the children actually have to go, which should mean mom can be cooking, but somehow the little one is crying about being left behind and mom is helping her put boots on instead of salting the pasta water. Then they come back, and the water is still boiling, and the 10 minutes do not include the part about the big ones complaining about wet feet, or explaining which chore one child must do, which involves mom being on the other side of the house, and then when you were going to go and actually put the pasta in the water, the little one is crying and getting underfoot, so you might as well wrap her on your back, because you're going to need to do it sooner or later anyways.
Putting the pasta in the water starts the 10 minutes, I believe. One can add frozen peas and bits of cooked chicken from another night, which makes a more interesting and nutritious meal without actually adding to the 10 minutes, because you can do it while the pasta is cooking. And with one child on mom's back, one child peacefully putting laundry away in his room (or something, but he was quiet and the laundry vanished), and the other child keeping up a running monologue as she folds paper bags, the pasta can cook in peace. It is supposed to cook for 8-10 minutes.
By then, the children have finished their chores and are supposed to set the table. If your pasta took 8 minutes, now you can spend two more minutes melting butter and milk and adding the cheese powder. It does not include telling your daughter to stop playing with a yoyo and put out the plates, or your son to stop flapping his arms like a bird. The table didn't need wiping, but the daughter insists on wiping it because she usually does, which means she needs to yell at her brother for trying to put something on the table, because now he's decided to stop flapping his wings and set the table. The cheese sauce doesn't take very long, but by now the pasta is getting cold, so you put it all in the pan on low heat. The 10 minutes apparently doesn't include telling the mid-table-wipe child four more times to stop playing with the yoyo. Or unwrapping the small child to take her to the potty, which you can't do quickly because she yells "I'm not done! I'm POOO-oooping!" So you have to go back out, tell the children to put the yoyo down, stop playing, and possibly some of these instructions are delivered in a louder-than-average voice. And stir the pasta which is sitting on the stove. The argument about who is supposed to put the plates on the table does not actually take any of the cook's time, although possibly her energy. The time it takes to wipe a poopy bottom is not included in the 10 minutes, except by now one of the children has become dedicated to the task at hand and has followed you into the bathroom saying "but what do I dooo-ooo! how do I set the taaaa-ble! what do I doo-ooo!" and you keep telling him to do what he does every night. And when you go to pull up the little one's pants, it turns out she wasn't really standing up, and the sudden change in waistband elevation pulls her flat over onto her nose, and she starts screaming.
The 10 minutes does not include checking for bloody noses, while trying to answer "what do I dooo-ooo!" and tell someone else to put the yoyo down. The yoyo-ing child's usual jobs are all things that are waiting on the yoyo-er, while the dedicated-to-working-or-yelling child has to wait for something else to happen (like: setting out cups; serving everyone water), so the cook has to spend her time telling the yoyo-er that she is forfeiting the chance to do her job if she doesn't actually do it, which she doesn't, so her brother eagerly dives at the plates with great earnestness, and the smugness that comes from being the one who is being better behaved at that moment. The cook needs to stir the pasta again, but she can't serve it because she's still comforting the non-bloody nose, and hoping that being buckled in her booster seat will get the cryer thinking about something besides her nose. The 10 minutes do not include the amount of time for a post-yoyo-ing child to throw a giant fit because she did not get to put the plates out, and the warming pasta needs stirring again.
The 10 minutes do not include the time necessary to locate everyone cups and lids, which invariably fall under everything else. And the middle-of-the-table-setter is now really busy doing all his sister's jobs as fast as possible while she sulks, so it takes a while to get a coaster for the pasta pot, which is pretty hot by now.
I am not sure whether the 10 minutes are supposed to include the time while the cook slowly serves out pasta, and tries to keep it away from the littlest one, while the two older ones elbow each other out of the way to do the remaining chores as fast as possible, which includes delays like one child opening the silverware drawer, running off to something else, and the other child banging it shut again. And debates whether it is meant to be a personal insult to be given the less attractive fork.
And in this secular country, they probably did not include the singing of grace as part of the 10 minutes, although it keeps food out of the children's bellies for a little while longer.
Come to think of it, maybe boxed mac and cheese is supposed to be marketed to college students.
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