Monday, December 18, 2006
Dad, the kitchen is full of smoke... ...is one phrase you don't want to hear on a sleepy Sunday morning. Yes, I know, I didn't know Sundays had a morning part either but there you go.
The title snippet was uttered by kid-thekid the first this Sunday morning though. I shot downstairs, stopping only to pull on my breeks, (the hoose might be on fire but seeing me in the all together could put my kids in therapy for life, Catty only looks when she has to,) flew into the living room, passing kid-thekids 2 and 3 and burst into the kitchen.
Aye, she was right enough, the kitchen was indeed full of smoke, but hang on, what was the black cinders in the hands of kid-thekid the second? Yes, she had been trying to make toast, using the toaster. This is a good development since nothing is in flames at that moment.
The amount of smoke was amazing though, for 2 slices of toast, which she concurred were inedible, although the bite marks showed she had tried. I opened the windows, gave the kids stern warnings about going in the kitchen when parentsthekid aren't around and closed the kitchen door.
Not a word on my parenting skills please....
btk ;oP
Your Skin, So Wet. Black Lace, On Sweat.
You might catch me rockin' but I'm country down to my soul.
Sometimes I'd rather kill you than listen to your honesty, but you've always been a friend to me.
You might catch me rockin' but I'm country down to my soul.
Sometimes I'd rather kill you than listen to your honesty, but you've always been a friend to me.
B7 d t- k- s u-- f i- o+ x- e l c+
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