March 6, 2010

Several friends on Twitter were discussing various home kitchen incidents today. I won't name names, but the exploding rice in the microwave was not the kind of "honey, I exploded the microwave" I was thinking.

Which all reminded me of the toaster we had in Austin, back in the days when a toaster was a major kitchen appliance and cost, apparently, 80 bazillion dollars. Our toaster no longer had a working timer. The toast would not pop up and Mom would not splurge on a new toaster. This one still worked, after all, you just had to stand there by it and count to sixty. Then pull the lever up and voila! Toast!

So, Grandma was visiting and Mom had to go run some early morning errand. She tasked Grandma with getting us fed breakfast and getting us dressed for the day. Presumably so we could all go shopping at the mall, not exactly a great motivator for me. Mom gave me her serious face and told me to {insert booming announcer voice here} "Make sure Grandma counts to sixty at the toaster."

My little sister is in her chair, eating breakfast and Grandma and I retreat to my room to pick out clothes for the day. Honestly, I didn't need help, I was SIX, for crying out loud and I can dress myself, but you know, it's Grandma and any attention is good, so I GUESS she can come help me pick out "appropriate" clothes. Let me give you a hint. It was the 70s. There were no appropriate clothes. *shudder*

My two and a half year old sister (maybe it was 3.5?) comes strolling into my room and I'm puffing up to holler at her about how this is MY room and she is supposed to be eating breakfast, when she pipes up with:

"Grandma, the kitchen is on fire." And calmly walks back into the fiery kitchen to eat her breakfast.

Grandma and I exchanged that utterly panicked look and took off running for the kitchen.

Flames were shooting up out of the toaster, but luckily, nothing else had actually caught fire yet. There was soot on the light fixture and the cabinets, but they weren't even blackened yet. We lucked out.

My sister was back at the table, calmly eating breakfast and just kind of watching Grandma put the fire out and begin the cleaning process. Grandma was trying to get everything perfectly cleaned up before Mom got back ... and of course no one was going to say a word about this to Mommy, right?

And of course, Mom came back just before Grandma could get the light fixture back together.

Somehow the flaming toast was actually my fault ... even though Grandma was the adult who really should have remembered to count to sixty.

Come to think of it, Grandma's the one who taught me to clean up and hide my wrong-doings ....

We did, however, get a new toaster after that fiasco.

Posted by Red Monkey at March 6, 2010 7:37 AM | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | | StumbleUpon Toolbar Stumble |


Tara R. said:

I don't remember any fiascos like that in our kitchen, but do remember visiting a friend who was cooking black beans in a pressure cooker. Somehow the seal gave way and black beans and juice exploded everywhere. It was only funny because it wasn't me cleaning bean detritus off the ceiling.

March 6, 2010 7:58 PM
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