Today I ran around the city searching for a plain white t-shirt for Alex to wear. It's his costume for his recital tomorrow. We found white tanks, colored t-shirts, and white t-shirts in every size except Alex's.
Finally, my nerves got to me. Alex was trying to channel his inner shopping cart daredevil and send me into early heart failure. Spain needed a diaper change and couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to eat. Our choices were the tshirts that showed Alex's belly button or the shirts that covered his knees. I grabbed the shirt that went to knees, threw it in the cart and sped to the checkout lane as fast as I could.
When we were back at home, I tenatively started dinner. I was waiting for the sweet husband to call when he needed to be picked up from the office "camping trip".
Guess what's flammable-
I stuck it under the broiler and set the timer. My brother called, and the next thing I know the garlic bread was on fire. It was like a huge vampire hating candle.
How long have I been cooking?