Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Well. We had an interesting dinner tonight. At around 8:30 we realized that 1) the two year old was still napping and 2) we had dinner to cook. I ran up to get the kid while hub got dinner preparations together. The menu was grilled marinated cornish game hens, garlic mashed potatoes, and wilted spinach salad. He had to go get the fire going, which normally takes a little while. He kept squirting lighter fluid and the fire kept *whoomf*ing up into the trees (our lot has no place that’s not completely canopied by trees, which is ok because we’re vampires as you can tell by the time of most of my posts).

Anyway, he tossed the birds on the grill and ran inside to wash out the pan. When he came out they were on Fire, with a capital F. Somehow he managed to get the fire out but now we had blackened grilled marinated cornish game hen.

By the time the birds were done, it was nigh unto 10:00 and the two year old was desperate for food, so much so that she kept stealing cheese and ham from the 10 month old and claiming she was “sharing”. Hub ran out to get the birds. He put them all into the pan, started to pick up the pan, and emitted a scream of pain. He thought he burned himself on one of the chickens. He hollered for a pot holder but I wasn’t fast enough or something and he ran inside to run his hand under cold water. At which point I look up and see that he’s brought a hitchhiker with him. A big huge gigantic angry red wasp, perched on the kitchen cabinets and looking big and huge and angry. I whip the baby out of the high chair and hold out my hand for the two year old saying “come here come here come here now now now it’s really important, baby” and she says…

come on… all together now…

“NO!”

So I grab her by the hand and hustle her into the other room and slam the door between us and the angry huge red wasp and paddle her, then worry because there are no curtains on the windows in that room and I wonder if the neighbors think I’m a child beater now.

In the meantime, hub dissects (well, more like cleaves in two) the big angry red wasp with our best most expensive butcher knife.

As we sat down to dinner (after putting the meat tenderizer and baking soda on hub’s hand; you’d think we were having it for dinner) I idly mentioned that maybe the wasp stung the chicken also, and one of us would take a bite and get a mouthful of venom.

I was joking of course, but hub didn’t think it was funny. He has no sense of humor sometimes.

Posted Food, Kids |