Sunday, February 3, 2008
Last weekend we had the rare treat of takeout Chinese food, mostly because I hadn't taken time to cook anything and often my kids require regular meals. I've always said that if they would just give up eating and wearing clothes, I might be able to get a little work done. (Truthfully, I had been busy trying to finish up several little papier mache guys, and since they NEVER complain about being hungry, the time had just gotten away from me.) Our little one red-light town only recently entered the multicultural realm, so the allure of chopsticks and fortune cookies hasn't quite worn off either. In a mere 10 minutes we'd done our part to bolster the local economy, everyone was satisfied, and I could get back to work. We even had enough food left over for lunch the next day--two "birds" with one debit card swipe, double bonus! Sunday after church my middle daughter dutifully awaited her turn at the precious Chinese leftovers and I saw her wince slightly as she watched the supply getting smaller and smaller. (You firstborn children and babies of the family will never quite understand the plight of being "middle." It means getting along at all costs, no matter what.) Anyway, at last it was her turn and there was just enough for one last serving. She carefully popped the plate into the microwave and counted the seconds until mouth-watering ecstasy. Ding! As my darling daughter gingerly pulled the anticipated food out of the oven. . . SPLAT. . . steaming Moo Goo Gai Pan somehow splattered all over the floor. I could almost see her little body deflate, and all she could muster was, "I hate irony."