Kitchen Fresh

Dave swung by work this afternoon to pick up the kids so I could get some more work done kid-free. After three solid days of day camp, I really liked this. He went for extra brownie points by picking up some KFC on the drive home so that I wouldn't have to fix dinner. He even went against his own southern principles (his extended family lives in Tennessee in case you missed the travelogue from the summer of 2005 when we went to visit them) and got grilled chicken for me. Because she doesn't hinder my progress (and because my boss' 13 year-old brother was staying late too), Natalie had stayed behind at work with me. We were almost home when my phone rang. It was Dave and he was furious. Apparently, Caroline and Elisa had taken all the lovely grilled pieces he had put aside for Natalie and I and fed them to our dog while he wasn't looking. No worries, they tore it off the bone for him. Apparently, nothing is too good for our poor recovering mutt. Not even their pregnant mother's dinner. I was hungry when I got home, but I was also very amused. In part because I could picture them tearing those pieces off and tossing them into Pablo's happy mouth AND because Dave really seemed to get a dose of how kids have the innate ability to throw a monkey wrench into anything you think is already a "job well done." It's OK, there were plenty of biscuits, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. It was all good-and now Dave has gone off in search of free rootbeer floats from Sonic. Hopefully the dog doesn't like them.