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Apparently Its With the Other Angels, in Heaven….

Last night Rob and I attended a meeting of the City’s Planning Commission (because we know how to have a good time) which started at 7:00. These meetings, or at least the part with which we are concerned, usually end by 8:30 or 9:00, so we left Sam Home Alone. He is 11, we were literally 3 minutes away, and there were neighbors home.

The meeting lasted until after 10:00, and because we are very bad parents, and really wanted to be there when the vote on our issue was taken (we lost, by the way), we didn’t get home until after 10:30. (Before you call Child Protective Services, I should add that it was not a school night because he is on spring break). in the midst of getting the dogs out, making wild promises of what we “owed” him for abandoning him, and checking phone messages, Rob noticed an empty Angel Food Cake box in the kitchen,  and a sink full of dirty dishes. The kitchen table was also suspiciously sticky.

“Sam,” he inquired cautiously, “is there a cake somewhere?” Sam giggled.

“Uhm, no, it blew up, but I pretty much cleaned everything.” He went on to explain that he had left the batter mixing for about 15 minutes while he played X-Box Live (thus aerating it to the point of virtual carbonation), and that as soon as it started baking it began first to rise alarmingly, and then to fire shots of goo all over the inside of the oven. He allowed as how he had put a pan under it to catch the worst of the drips, and called my mother, who had suggested that he abandon the experiment and clean up as much as he could.

So, I rinsed out the mixer bowl, the paddle, the sticky pan, the tube pan and an inexplicable assortment of spoons, spatulas and chopsticks (?!), cleaned the table, and went to bed happy that I am raising a kid who, left to his own devices, chooses to bake a cake. Sort of.


About imagineannie

I feel like I'm fifteen - does that count? I'm lots of things, I get paid to be the Managing Editor for a local news publication, and I love my job. I am also inordinately fond of reading, animals (I have four), elephants, owls, hedgehogs writing, tramping in the woods, cooking India, Ireland, England, avocado toast, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, Little Women, Fun Home, Lumber Janes, Fangirl, magic, Neil Gaiman, Jane Austen, YA books, not YA books, classical music, Salinger (OMG SALINGER), Brahms, key lime pie, indie music, podcasts, sleeping in, road trips, marmalade, museums, bookstores, the Oxford comma, BBC, The Miss Fisher Mysteries, birdwatching, seashells, kombucha, and stickers. Not a huge fan of chewing gum, jazz, trucker hats or dystopian and/or post-apolcalyptic fiction (but I'll try anything).

9 responses »

  1. Chopsticks? I’ve used them for other things than eating, but this…?
    This is hilarious. “it blew up” still chuckling…

  2. Brilliant child. Love him!!!

  3. As someone who knows Sam, this is so Sam. The only reason anyone would ever call Child Protective Services on you, Ann, would be to offer you up as a foster mother for other kids! What a fortunate boy (and he knows it).

    I have multiple theories about the chopsticks, having been there myself:

    a. used to check doneness when you can’t find the toothpicks or a barbeque skewer (fails miserably, by the way, and pokes big holes in your cake);

    b. scraping up little messy bits in a desperate attempt to cover up evidence;

    c. who knows. He’s a boy. I’m sure he came up with something interesting!


  4. bless his heart! i love him already!

  5. claudia, Mary and jayedee, I love him, too. Maybe he’ll be a chef?

    Eric, I think my friend Alice may be on the right track (and she actually knows Sam) about checking doneness. He’s seem me do it with a skewer, and I bet that’s what he was doing before it blew up.

    Alice, I’m verklempt. I do my best, and I’m glad someone notices.

  6. OMY! ROFL….. Great kid!

  7. That’s my grandson!! Don’t ever sit idle when you can think of something else to do!!

  8. Chris, thank for coming back! I hope its not just because jayedee is sitting behind your chair with a loaded weapon. He is a great kid…just messy.

    Jan, that is, indeed your grandson. I see much of you in him, and this is a prime example (not the destruction, the urge to stay busy). 🙂


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