As we were walking out of the mall the other day, we passed a nail salon with a creepy collection of mannequin hands piled on the front counter and Foster said, “Hey look, it’s the Lost and Found for body parts.” That’s my boy.
(Image borrowed from Ameriglobe Imports, Inc.)
Now that the kids are getting older and are having friends over more frequently, they’re also inviting those friends to stay for supper occasionally. This is both good and bad – good because it reminds me how much I like my children in comparison to all other children and bad because in order to make that comparison, I have to endure the presence of other children. Nah, I’m just being nasty. Mostly. The majority of the kids’ friends are nice and sweet and polite, if perhaps a little too honest by times. As in, “Wow! That’s a lot of dirty dishes!” Etc.
Charlotte had a dinner guest one night this past week who, when confronted with homemade bread – the bread seen above, BREAD, I might add, MADE WITH MY VERY OWN HANDS – asked, “How do you guys eat this stuff?” Uh, thanks, kid. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.
The very next night, Anna had a guest – a lovely young lady we like very much – who asked me to please make the pasta with sausage dish I’d made the week before since she’d sampled it from Anna’s thermos at school the next day and thought it was delicious. Flattered, I re-created the recipe and happily served it, at which time our guest said, “Oh, I’m a vegetarian.” Um, you know what sausage is, right?
I’m thinking that our next dinner guest will receive any food of his or her choosing – from the backyard. Anything you can find, dearest, it’s all yours.
“Invisible tape,” Foster read from the tape dispenser on the kitchen table. “If it’s invisible, why can I see it?”