K has been out of town since Saturday, so it's just been me and O. We had a terrible storm Sunday night that rolled right into Monday evening. So when O & I got home last night, everything electronic was flashing - the clock on the stove, the microwave, the coffee pot, etc, indicating that the power did indeed go out at our house. We went through our usual routine ... O crawled to his playroom, looks back to make sure I'm watching him, and then he's off to play. Meanwhile, I start making his favorite dinner: grilled cheese. Well, his favorite dinner would really be waffles, but I'm trying to diversify.
I get the frying pan on the stove and throw some butter in it. O hears the refridgerator door open, and comes cruising in like a madman. Against my better judgement, I let him play in the fridge (now, before you judge, this is one of his preferred pasttimes and I obviously don't let him play unsupervised, nor is he actually IN the fridge, but just standing there with the door open. I realized when I re-read that sentence that I sound like mom of the year). I digress. Anywho, O is playing with the fridge door open (that sounds better), I've got a pan full of hot butter on the stove that is starting to smoke while I gather the ingredients for his nutritious dinner. We have a touchy smoke alarm, so I needed to turn the vent on with a quickness. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, you can do ANYTHING on the microwave until the darn clock is set. Who knew? So the smoke is going, I'm hitting all the buttons to reset the clock, trying just to get it to ALLOW me to turn the vent on. Finally. Success.
I notice that O is curiously eyeing the glass jar of marinated artichokes. No, no, honey, not that one. Here - I'll move all the condiments in plastic containers to your level so you can play. Done. Back to my grill cheese.
THEN, I hear the pitter patter of little ... wait, it's not feet. It's the melodic tune of the rain coming down in our kitchen ~ the same place that our house leaks everytime a big storm comes and the builder claims it's nature's fault that our home has holes in it. Interesting. Anyway, I digress again. So the vent is on taking care of the smoke, and I run over to grab a towel to soak up the pond that has now emerged in our kitchen floor. Ok - got it. Dripping is now occuring on soft cotton instead of our wood floors.
Then I hear a ker-thunk on the floor ~ what now?? I turn to find the canister of Kraft Parmesan wide open and half its contents in O's lap. He's sporting a big smile as he realizes that the bottoms of his feet are powdered with grated cheese. I'm laughing, because I could see the hidden cameras coming out any minute. I go to grab the dustpan, which is locked away in the cabinet under the sink, fumbling around to get the door key to open the cupboard (See picture - see plastic key? Remember that for later). Got it. Mess cleaned. O goes to his high chair while I finish his *somewhat now charred* grilled cheese.
Alright. So dinner is on its way for O. I thought I could possibly slide the production of my own dinner in the mix. Yeah right. I grabbed the Perfect Pasta pot (do you know how fast these things boil water??) and fill it with water to make my Thai noodles. While that's boiling, I think to myself that I'll clean up a bit. I head to the cabinet under the sink to put the dustpan away, and can't find the key to open it. It was just here, on the counter. What have I done with it? I look over on the stove and see the cabinet key, magnetically stuck to the (now VERY HOT) Perfect Pasta pot on the stove. Plastic, ON THE STOVE. Have to get it off. I'm moving in slow motion as I envision the entire kitchen going up in flames. Thank goodness I got that vent to work earlier. Just kidding. It wasn't THAT serious. But it did get me moving pretty quickly.
O throws his milk cup down ("no no") on the floor and anxiously awaits his grilled cheese. Of course, I had tried to hide a little piece of ham into this gourmet delight, which he very adamantly does not like. So he proceeds to pick apart the grilled cheese which has nearly cost me my sanity, and throws it onto the floor. And yes, he ended up having waffles for dinner.
