Ok, this isn't going to be about the many times I messed up an otherwise perfect meal by overcooking, like I have heard the joke about treating our husbands like gods, with burnt offerings.
But, it is about my daily life.
I was suprised by a thing that happened on Sunday night. I was baking cookies upon request for my little ones that wanted a homebaked goodie to take with them. Admitedly, I was rushed to try and bake their treat before their dad got here to pick them up.
If you don't know the kitchen is a scary place for me, with all of it's sharo untensils, hot things, and oils or powders to drop and make a mess. My balance is terrible.
I was running to get the cookies out of the oven when the beeper went off, and as I tried to grab the tray of hot cookies, I dropped it. Brandall was standing right there by this time and he was concerned and tried to help me. I was really impressed by this act because it is something I a entirely unaccustomed to, Nick, my husband, just says, there is nothing wrong with me, and expects me to take care of everything by myself.
I thought about what Brandall said to the kids today because as I was making lunch for Nick, Joseph and Mary both wanted to help, and I told them that the kitchen was not a safe place for them, as the grease bubbles popped and exploded onto my hand, OUCH! I also recall a story a girl told of her step mom cooking with a deep fryer and when shedropped the basket the grease splashed up on her face and hands. Her sister suggested that they say a prayer and to this day, they believe it helped her, though she sti suffered and has scars, it was not nearly as bad or unbearable as it ought to have been. I instantly thought of the Roswell episode where the mother is stress cooking ans starts a grease fire and her son Max saves her using his alien powers.
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