First, before I forget to mark the milestone, I have to tell you all that E~ has recently started saying “Mama.” My kids told Grandma Stefani (Sean’s step-mother) this yesterday at the amusement park. Her response? “Now he just has to learn what it means when he says it! That will be the real accomplishment.”
Let’s see–so far, he pretty much starts yelling it repeatedly when he is annoyed or angry about something, then stops when I fix whatever is ticking him off. Previous experience has taught me that this is pretty much how he will be using the word for the next eighteen years of his life, so I don’t see where it much matters if he “get’s it” or not. The execution is the same.
A couple of weeks ago, E~ developed a cold. It has been working its way through my family ever since. Last week, I went to church while Sean stayed home with the three older boys, who were all stuffy and hacking. Today, Sean took the three older boys to church on his own while I stayed home with E~, who seems to be on his second round of the cold (someone got the short end of the stick both weeks, and I’ll admit that it wasn’t me). The kid is a regular snot factory. This contributed to neither of us getting much sleep last night (which may explain a lot of what is to come in this post!).
While I had wanted to spend my time at home today doing something spiritual, E’s refusal to be set down killed all hope for that. There really wasn’t much that I could do to occupy my mind in a constructive way. Leaving me (relatively) alone to my thoughts is a dangerous thing. After learning that a chain shot from a cannon does an amazing job of ripping a dead pig dressed like a pirate in half (thanks to the Mythbusters for that useful tidbit of graphic information), I found my mind wandering.
In the end, I had come up with my own concept for a theme cookbook:
Inside, you’ll find recipes for everything from the oh-so-obvious Knuckle Sandwich, to Broken Ladies’ Fingers, Sucker Punch, Black and Bleu Burgers, Kick to the Kidney Bean Salad, Pound Cake and, my personal favorite, Pigs in a Rolled-up Carpet.
Of course, no recipe can be cooked without first procuring the meat…(cue “Old McDonald” music):
Strong-Arm Guido had a farm,
Eee Eye Eee Eye Oooo.
And on this farm he killed a pig,
Eee Eye Eee Eye Oooo.
With an “Oink” Pop! “Screeeeee!” here…
That’s right–I have a dream. A dream of inspiring the first Broadway musical to be based on a cookbook.
I’d better start shopping for a dress to wear to the Tony Awards now.