And Then I Stepped in Gum . . .

I'm Your Beck and Call Girl

Katie's home sick for the second day in a row. Ian's also home. I just discovered that I screwed up an editing job and have to scramble to get some stuff done that I didn't realize I had to do. Tension is somewhat high at the Morgan household, although the kids are actually being pretty good (read: watching TV and not arguing while I panic and my head explodes).

Ian asks for an apple. "But I don't want the seeds. You have to take out the seeds." No problem -- I have my handy dandy OXO apple corer right here. That's when the problem starts. "But I don't want a hole in my apple!" Ian whines, as he (gently -- linoleum can be hard) throws himself down on the floor. "And I don't want skin."

"But that's how you get the seeds out, Buddy. Do you want me to slice it so you have slices shaped like Os?"

"No! I don't want a hole in my apple!" issues forth from the supine figure on the kitchen floor.

I continue peeling the apple, resigning myself to throwing it away uneaten in a couple of hours. Inspiration hits. I pick up the intact core, slide it back into the hole, and hand the apple to him. "How did you do that?" "Magic," I reply.

Crisis averted. The omnipotence of Mommy is restored.

Now back to editing and my exploding head -- at least until lunchtime.

posted by Jennifer Morgan, at 11:32 AM