Burnt Toast

I ate burnt toast this morning.  Burnt flippin’ toast.  I HATE burnt.  Usually I just throw it out and start over but I had used the last of my honey butter and I really wanted honey butter so I ate it.  Burnt flippin’ toast.

I realize if you’re not the main caregiver of a small child (and I realize this is not just limited to mommies but can include daddies, grandmas, etc.) you may think I’m being a little ridiculous, but let me explain.

The toast got burnt because while it was in the toaster oven I had to make Honeybun’s lunch.  And remind her 5 times that she needed to get dressed for school or she would be late.  And break up a screaming match in the bathroom over who was taking too long (Honeybun) and who needed to go “weal, weal bad!” (Sugarplum) even though there were two other perfectly functional toilets in the house which both refused to use.

Why did I let the toast go so long in the toaster you ask?  Why didn’t I set the toaster for the perfect amount of doneness?  Well, folks, that’s because my toaster only works if you set it to 10 or more minutes because the flippin’ movers damaged it.  And because it was a wedding gift and I don’t want to spend the money on a new one.  So I ended up with burnt toast.  Burnt flippin’ toast.

And then I didn’t even get to enjoy the burnt toast (as much as you can enjoy burnt toast) because Doodle was screaming the whole time.  And I had to stop to do Honeybun’s hair.  And I had to stop to find Sugarplum’s shirt because eating cold burnt toast is better than listening to her whine while I eat burnt flippin’ toast.

So I furiously (in both the fast and angry senses of the word) ate my cold, burnt flippin’ toast before Doodle lost all control of himself and I would no longer be able to concentrate on chewing and before my shirt turned into a wet, milky mess.  All of this not because I actually wanted to eat the burnt flippin’ toast but because I had to eat SOMETHING for fear of passing out if I didn’t and taking more time to make (or grab) and eat something else was out of the question.

So I ate the toast.  The burnt flippin’ toast.