Quesadilla’s were on the menu. It’s a balmy 75-degree day and cheesy wrapped chicken sounded appropriate.
Apparently I forgot the avocados. This was a crisis-situation. Because what toddler could *possibly* eat a quesadilla without avocado?
I went to remedy the situation.
Then I heard the banging. I turned to look. Plates went flying.
Huh – forgot there had once been a salt and pepper shaker in the center of the table. I did not forget that the muppets have magical monkey-like climbing abilities.
Destroy had procured the saltshaker and was happily sprinkling its contents over his sippy cup of milk – pausing periodically to examine his handiwork. And occasionally lick the spout of the sippy.
Search seemed to find pleasure in pouring pepper over his head – giggling manically over his mischief. Shockingly, he had lost interest in his now overly spiced food. (This was going to make for a reeeeally interesting diaper change.)
Parental instinct or common sense, either way, I headed back toward the table right quick.
They saw me.
They shared a conspiratorial brotherly look that screamed, “Oh shit! She’s onto us!”
The saltshaker came FLYING toward me. “Quick! Distract the mommy. Or knock her unconscious with the ceramic margarita enhancer!” (And let me just take an additional moment to point out that this kid can HURL.)
Tangent: In the past few millennia of bible telephone-game translation, I would like to proffer an alternative theory. Lot’s wife didn’t turn INTO a pillar of salt, she obviously had active boy toddlers. (Yes, I know I’m going to hell. I’ll see many of you there. We’ll have margaritas.)
Much to their chagrin, I removed my muppets from the scene of the crime and stripped them of their seasoned shorts.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch kitchen table, the big black dog was enthusiastically devouring any possible remnant or crumb of the um, flavorful? lunch.
And sneezing uncontrollably.
“Search and Destroy. This is unacceptable behavior,” I informed them through hysterical laughter. Although I think they were laughing to hard to hear me.
You. Can. Not. Make. This. Up.