Why you should never go to Costco
I was upstairs today truly pondering the mysteries of life while 2 of my children were downstairs watching Sesame Street. Now, to the untrained eye, it MAY have looked like I was just zoning out watching reruns of "The Cosby Show", but that is one of my preferred methods of pondering. As my ponderings came to an end, and, coincidentally, the credits began to roll, I came downstairs to make lunch for me and the kiddos. I was planning on making some "all white meat, no trans fats" chicken nuggets, along with the "no trans fats, completely organic, gluten-free" french fries, both purchased at Costco yesterday. SEE what healthy food we eat around here? As I came downstairs, the first thing I saw was that only one of my children was watching aforementioned PBS. I turned into the kitchen, and saw Toddler-Man with his hand in the oven, (thankfully turned off) with some sort of pale, thick liquid smeared down the oven door. "Hi, Mommy." (He has never opened the oven door before in his life. He says "hot" every time we go near it.) "Hi, buddy." My first thought was that he had gotten yogurt out of the fridge and for some inexplicable reason had put it in the oven. Then I turned to the counter, and all revealed itself in due time. Eggs. 24 of them, as one can only buy at Costco, had been removed from the fridge, and apparently Toddler-Man felt that they belonged in the oven. The non-cracked ones looked like little white baked potatoes, placed carefully on the rack and ready to be removed, cut open, and smeared with butter and sour cream. The cracked ones, well, they looked nothing like that. Of course, they didn't all make it into the oven. Several were cracked on the floor, which had been mopped yesterday, and one had even been cracked into an empty milk carton waiting to be recycled. Talented dude, that Toddler-Man. My dog wasn't thrilled at the prospect of licking all the egg off the floor. I thought dogs loved eggs. Fortunately, 2 year olds love cleaning up almost as much as they love making a mess, as long as it involves paper towels and a spray bottle. (Wow, there's egg inside the drawer.) The clean up song (the ONLY good thing to come from Barney, IMO) was employed in full force, while my 4 year old kept asking when we would have lunch. Oh, well, my oven hadn't been cleaned in a while, anyway. I think I need to place a child-lock on the oven door, go back upstairs, and ponder some more. Maybe I can find some reruns of "Cheers" on TV.