Last night I was trying to get out the door for karate. 6:00, I’m cooking some dinner for kids, trying to mentally locate the gi, gear bag, thinking of what we need from the store, Tia’s still working, etc.
Kendall wants cornbread.
I was going to push this off on Tia since I really like to get to karate early and get stretched. Kendall got a bowl out and is standing there holding the pack of Jiffy mix and with a sore elbow, I would be taking it easy, so I agreed.
Grab milk, grab e….wait, we have no eggs.
Mental “Whew, I won’t be late”. Verbal “Sorry honey, we have no eggs. I’ll get some from the store and we can make it tomorrow.”
“Jimmy has eggs”
“Who the @$#$# is Jimmy?” That was mental, not spoken, but I did have a confused look on my face. Kendall says “Jimmy Gilbert” who is just down the road. Jimmy’s in her 2nd grade class and has chickens that he’s responsible for. His parents helped him make a sign and put it out by the road and he has eggs for sale.
So we jump in the car, drive over and Jimmy has 9 eggs left. We grab them, come home, mix it up, in the oven, and as I’m getting ready to leave, Kendall still has her face in front of the oven. She’s been turning on the light and checking the muffins every 30 sec. They’re close (toothpick test), so I pull them out and she’s buttering one as we race out the door.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment