Inspired by The Lone Woman's regular feature, How I Failed Five Today, I offer the following:
How I Failed the Pea
I mixed up her rice cereal, which took me weeks to master. My mama mixes it like silk in no time, while I ended up with a lumpy gravy consistency that my offspring is wont to extrude. At last a competent cereal maker, I decided to teach dh to do the same. Because I am just that proficient.
I measured the cereal and formula, stirred, heated, stirred, added a generous dollop of peaches and stirred some more. I fed spoonfuls to our waiting daughter who, it must be added, was overdue to eat because of mama's theatrical cereal stylings.
She ate. I scraped the extra peaches from a little container, instructing dh to always finish with a bite of fruit for dessert. Then I picked up the dishes to go to the sink, sniffed and wrinkled my nose. Not wanting to discredit my awesome performance, I said nothing but my internal monologue was something like "man that smells like crap--was somehting wrong with the peaches?"
well, yes. Since the peaches were squash.
I tasted the smear left in the bowl and gagged. Rice cereal. With squash.
And my poor baby had eaten it all.
The squash and peaches are the same color, in my defense, but it says right on the container what's inside. I just didn't bother to read on it. Or, you know, SMELL it.
One day you'll put me in a really nasty nursing home, I told her as I fed her consolation applesauce.
"Yeah," dh chimed in. "I thought it said premium but it said putrid" and then he guffawed.