Feeling too lazy to cook tonight, I scooped up a loaf of cinnamon bread from Target to make french toast for supper. It's a perfect Saturday night meal, in my opinion.
Upon hearing that french toast would be served, a sure delicacy in this house, the kids sprang into action, cleaning up the house and clearing the art mess from the dining room table. They ran about, putting their arms straight out in front of them as they ran around corners to shield themselves from someone else coming the other way. It seems like it would be easier to walk slower and not worry about colliding into someone, but then I suppose it's a longer wait for supper. And we can't have that now, can we?
The more they bustled about, the sillier they got. Chet asked Avery to get the milk out and she agreed, walking with stiff arms and legs towards the refrigerator.
"I'm a wooden boy!" she cried, in a squeaky voice. "I will help you with the milk!"
Tucker grabbed onto the back of my shirt, holding on as I walked around the kitchen, giggling to himself at his sneakiness. I purposely ignored him and he thought this to be the most hilarious trick ever.
Piper decided not to join in the fun, instead swiping through the Kindle screens, trying to find a way to play as her session had timed out for the day. She ignored all pleas for help, as she normally does.
Milo sat in his highchair, randomly cheesing at me, but otherwise scratching the growing patch of eczema on his chest, all while lazily sucking on a bag of applesauce.
I put the first batch of french toast on the table and Chet dished it out to each kid. In his best Russian accent, he narrated his task.
"Zis von eez for you. And zis von eez for you."
Whatever compelled him to suddenly become a Russian, I'll never know.
"Eez der more butzer?" he asked me. "I need zum butzer."
I was still flipping french toast and so I told the Russian to get his own butter. Avery called out to me from the table, asking for more milk. Why kids feel the need to only ask Mom when Dad is right there, I'll never understand, but I suppose she probably didn't recognize the strange Russian man sitting next to her.
"You have a perfectly capable Russian sitting right next to you with two arms and two working hands." I told her. "Ask him."
"Vould you like zum more milzk?" he asked her, ever so politely.
She giggled.
"Why are you speaking in a different language?" she wondered. "Is it Spanish?"
Earlier today as I sorted laundry, Avery came running over to me, breathless.
"Mom?" she asked. "Can I make a snack for me and Tucker out of Ritz crackers, peanut butter and raisins?"
"Sure." I said.
"YESSSS!" she cheered and ran into the kitchen.
She returned a few minutes later with a Ritz cracker covered in peanut butter and three raisins placed in the center. She offered it to me.
"Try this, Mother." she said. "You will loooove it."
I took a little nibble. Her eyebrows went up in anticipation.
"It's DELICIOUS!" I said. "Fantastic!"
She giggled.
"Make sure you write about it on Facebook, ok?" she said. "That I created my own snack. And tell everyone how to make it. First, take a Ritz cracker, then with a knife, put peanut butter on it. Then take three raisins and put them in the middle. Don't put them on the outside. Then eat it!"
"Got it." I said.
Upon hearing that french toast would be served, a sure delicacy in this house, the kids sprang into action, cleaning up the house and clearing the art mess from the dining room table. They ran about, putting their arms straight out in front of them as they ran around corners to shield themselves from someone else coming the other way. It seems like it would be easier to walk slower and not worry about colliding into someone, but then I suppose it's a longer wait for supper. And we can't have that now, can we?
The more they bustled about, the sillier they got. Chet asked Avery to get the milk out and she agreed, walking with stiff arms and legs towards the refrigerator.
"I'm a wooden boy!" she cried, in a squeaky voice. "I will help you with the milk!"
Tucker grabbed onto the back of my shirt, holding on as I walked around the kitchen, giggling to himself at his sneakiness. I purposely ignored him and he thought this to be the most hilarious trick ever.
Piper decided not to join in the fun, instead swiping through the Kindle screens, trying to find a way to play as her session had timed out for the day. She ignored all pleas for help, as she normally does.
Milo sat in his highchair, randomly cheesing at me, but otherwise scratching the growing patch of eczema on his chest, all while lazily sucking on a bag of applesauce.
I put the first batch of french toast on the table and Chet dished it out to each kid. In his best Russian accent, he narrated his task.
"Zis von eez for you. And zis von eez for you."
Whatever compelled him to suddenly become a Russian, I'll never know.
"Eez der more butzer?" he asked me. "I need zum butzer."
I was still flipping french toast and so I told the Russian to get his own butter. Avery called out to me from the table, asking for more milk. Why kids feel the need to only ask Mom when Dad is right there, I'll never understand, but I suppose she probably didn't recognize the strange Russian man sitting next to her.
"You have a perfectly capable Russian sitting right next to you with two arms and two working hands." I told her. "Ask him."
"Vould you like zum more milzk?" he asked her, ever so politely.
She giggled.
"Why are you speaking in a different language?" she wondered. "Is it Spanish?"
Earlier today as I sorted laundry, Avery came running over to me, breathless.
"Mom?" she asked. "Can I make a snack for me and Tucker out of Ritz crackers, peanut butter and raisins?"
"Sure." I said.
"YESSSS!" she cheered and ran into the kitchen.
She returned a few minutes later with a Ritz cracker covered in peanut butter and three raisins placed in the center. She offered it to me.
"Try this, Mother." she said. "You will loooove it."
I took a little nibble. Her eyebrows went up in anticipation.
"It's DELICIOUS!" I said. "Fantastic!"
She giggled.
"Make sure you write about it on Facebook, ok?" she said. "That I created my own snack. And tell everyone how to make it. First, take a Ritz cracker, then with a knife, put peanut butter on it. Then take three raisins and put them in the middle. Don't put them on the outside. Then eat it!"
"Got it." I said.
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