Sometimes I just have to laugh at the goings on in this house. I really do try to manage the children. Really I do. But I'm sure I don't know even the half of what happens when I'm not looking.
Last week, after being gone for two days, I went to lay sweet John down to bed. I pulled back the covers to find a disturbing sight- a roll of ground turkey bulging and ready to explode. Why? How could this be? It was like handling a live grenade. Scary. All I could picture is putrid raw turkey meat splattered all over the walls. It was a bad scene. Apparently, John had an ouchy and helpful Rebekah decided that he needed some ice. But, you see, we didn't have any ice, so she used the meat instead. I don't even want to know how many nights he had been sleeping with that meat.
Then today Hannah was making banana bread and was concerned that the oven was smoking. She kept telling me that "all the burnt stuff on the bottom of the oven is getting too hot!" Well, I thought little batter had overflowed and spilled on the bottom and ignored it. No big deal, right?
Later when cleaning up the kitchen, I picked up the sugar container that was sitting on the back burner and sugar poured out through a hole in the bottom. Yep. She set the sugar on the oven vent while baking. The plastic melted and there was sugar all the way up the pipe. It was burning out the other end into the oven. The oven has since been vacuumed, but I'm kind of afraid to turn it on.