Tonight my son and I are shopping in the grocery store. He is still upset, but getting over it. I'm collecting ingredients for my lasagna. He is busy telling me he doesn't like lasagna. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to give him lasagna anyway. five years ago, the boy got sick after eating lasagna and threw up all the way down our hallway, on berber carpet. Oh, the joy of trying to get red sauce and partially digested ricotta cheese out of berber carpet at 1am. There is a poem in there somewhere, Edgar Allen Poe style I am sure. I ask him to pick a box of juices as we pass that aisle. He catches up on the next aisle. He then sees the box is partially open. He wants to put it back and I say "go ahead." He catches up as I am searching for Ricotta cheese. It has been a while. I am afraid to ask what he has been doing. He sees I am not going to ask, so he decides to share his adventure with me. Apparently he was carrying the caprisun box with two hands, one on each end, and the box cracked in half and spilled all of the drinks out. Calmly, I tell him that is not possible. He is adamant that it is. He starts to explain, but I ask him if someone came to help clean it up. He says yes. I say ok, that is all I really need to know, now help me find some ricotta cheese. He then got to pick out some Ben & Jerry's ice cream and we made it home without some other calamity occurring. :-)
Good Night!
~Mike
If there is a Poe poem in there, I'm sure it's a classic. I hope the lasagna was calamity free and you got some well deserved rest.
ReplyDeleteMotherbumper,
ReplyDeleteStill working on the poem, but the lasagna was fantastic and rest has come and gone and coming again in 10 minutes, after my shower. :-)