I was lying in bed this morning, not asleep, yet not quite awake yet either. I cracked one eye open and glanced at the clock. Ugh. Ten more minutes. I'll get up in ten more minutes, I thought. I smelled something cooking. Who was cooking? Joe's at work. The kids are asleep. Ohhh, I know! Joe must have put the chicken in the crock pot before he left for work. Wow, that chicken is going to fall off the bones and be mush if it cooks that long. I wonder why Joe put the chicken in before he left for work at 4:00 this morning? It smells like it's burning too. I wonder if he put any liquid in with it?
I decided to get up and check on the chicken and pour some water over it. I got up, walked into the kitchen, and my feet stuck to the floor. Huh? I looked down and saw what appeared to be egg smeared all over the floor. A peek at the egg shells in the sink and the yolk covered paper towels in the garbage confirmed my thoughts.
Before cleaning up the sticky egg mess, I checked on the crock pot. The crock pot that didn't have a chicken in it. It wasn't plugged in. It was empty.
Wait. How can that be? I smell something cooking. What on earth is that smell? I look around the kitchen. I look in the oven. I walk through the house sniffing, saying, "What IS that smell?"
Clay, who is awake and sitting in the family room answers me.
"It's eggs, Mom!"
"What do you mean, 'It's eggs'?"
"I wanted eggs for breakfast."
"Did you try to cook eggs?" I asked horrified.
"Yes!" Clay answers proudly.
He ran to the microwave, opened the door, and pulled out a coffee cup with what was once an egg, but is now a hard, yellow/brown, sponge looking, hockey puck.
Clay, who is awake and sitting in the family room answers me.
"It's eggs, Mom!"
"What do you mean, 'It's eggs'?"
"I wanted eggs for breakfast."
"Did you try to cook eggs?" I asked horrified.
"Yes!" Clay answers proudly.
He ran to the microwave, opened the door, and pulled out a coffee cup with what was once an egg, but is now a hard, yellow/brown, sponge looking, hockey puck.
This is the part where I freaked out. We can skip the details.
Then I cleaned up the sticky egg goo that had been smeared all over the floor while thanking God that Clay didn't burn the house down or hurt himself. On the bright side, it's been almost a year since his last cooking escapade (where he put a package of microwave popcorn, still encased in cellophane, in the microwave for 55 minutes and 55 seconds) so at least it's not a regular thing.
Look at this egg. See all that white stuff? He put a handful of kosher salt on it first. No plain ole, unseasoned eggs for this guy.
Looks a little like a natural sea sponge, no? Who knew an egg could look quite like this.
After the cooking eggstravaganza, I took my middle daughter to the doctor because she's been sick for a couple days and started running a fever today. When I got home, I walked to the kitchen to make the kids lunch. I heard someone run to the bathroom. I heard the door close and the toilet seat slam open. I heard all these things yet they didn't totally register. Do you know what I mean? Even though I was concentrating on making lunch, I was picking up little bits and pieces of what was going on in the rest of the house. Even though I was in another part of the house, concentrating on something else, I knew that Clay was going to the bathroom.
I asked the kids if they wanted celery or apples and heard Lexi's and Clay's replies from the family room. What? The family room? But he's in the bathroom. Isn't he? I walk to the bathroom only to find Brooklyn there. Standing IN the toilet. Yep, there she was, socks on, standing in the water.
Then at dinner, I was delighted to learn that the kids had taught Brooklyn a new word. Chickenbutt. This should be part of every one year old's vocabulary, no? Ugh.
Hooray for bedtime.
