My soon-to-be two year old is not content, it seems, to partake in the typical childhood bumps and bruises. Yes, she falls off from things regularly, and bangs her head, or drops things on her toes, or squashes a finger. But she also has to take everything one step further. Like yesterday, when she managed to sprinkle black pepper in her eye. In case anyone ever wondered - a two year old with pepper in their eye is not a happy camper, and if their fingernails happen to be long at the same time, the bloody scratched mess that will result is enough to result in an instantaneous lifetime's worth of Mom-guilt.
Oh yes, and it was dinnertime, too. In the flurry of activity, our pasta got pretty gummy. But, the good news is that LW is fine, now (albeit scratched), and we've learned better than to let her play with spices until she's at least 25.
Ever had a toddler spice catastrophe? Please share, and let me know I'm not the worst Mom alive.
Showing posts with label Kitchen Disasters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kitchen Disasters. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Lesson for a Tuesday
Today's science lesson:
If you happen to be making grits for breakfast, and you just happen to drop the whole, steaming, still slightly soupy bowl of grits on the floor... you will receive an awesome lesson in physics.
That's right: your grits will splash eight feet in every direction, onto every surface imaginable. Daughter's kitchen toys? Check. Throw rug that doesn't fit in the washing machine? Check. Laundry basket eight feet away in the living room? Check, check, and double check (side note: when I went to spell check my post, double check initially turned into diabolic; coincidence? I don't think so). And by the time you finish cleaning up what can only be described as grit shrapnel, you probably won't want grits for breakfast anymore.
Don't ask me how I know this.
I would include pictures for illustration, but it's far too early in the week for anything that demoralizing. Take it from me, though: it might be wise to choose something less explosive for breakfast. Like toast.
That's all for now. May your Tuesday be less sticky and gritty than mine.
If you happen to be making grits for breakfast, and you just happen to drop the whole, steaming, still slightly soupy bowl of grits on the floor... you will receive an awesome lesson in physics.
That's right: your grits will splash eight feet in every direction, onto every surface imaginable. Daughter's kitchen toys? Check. Throw rug that doesn't fit in the washing machine? Check. Laundry basket eight feet away in the living room? Check, check, and double check (side note: when I went to spell check my post, double check initially turned into diabolic; coincidence? I don't think so). And by the time you finish cleaning up what can only be described as grit shrapnel, you probably won't want grits for breakfast anymore.
Don't ask me how I know this.
I would include pictures for illustration, but it's far too early in the week for anything that demoralizing. Take it from me, though: it might be wise to choose something less explosive for breakfast. Like toast.
That's all for now. May your Tuesday be less sticky and gritty than mine.
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