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Yummy Breakfast Treats.
You know what you do with leftover grits?
You make wonderful, crispy fried grit cakes.
When I came downstairs this morning,
there were 4 of these babies sitting in a pan on the stove.
I ate 'em all.
Deeeee-licious.
An hour later, Mr. Hawthorne came into the kitchen
and asked, "Where are all the grit cakes?"
Uh oh.
Me: "Wha?"
Mr. H.: "The grit cakes. There were 4.
Two for me, one for you, and one for Dixie."
Me: (Thinking fast on my feet.) "Baaad, Dixie."
Dixie: Sulks and lowers head.
Mr. H.: "She ate 'em all?"
Me: "I guess so."
Mr. H.: "Liar."
Me: "But they were really, really good. I thought you'd already eaten."
Mr. H.: "Noooooo."
Me: (Cheerily) "Well, you can read all about them on my blog."
Mr. H.: Sulks, lowers head, retreats to his room.
Poor Mr. Hawthorne.
You know what you do with leftover grits?
You make wonderful, crispy fried grit cakes.
When I came downstairs this morning,
there were 4 of these babies sitting in a pan on the stove.
I ate 'em all.
Deeeee-licious.
An hour later, Mr. Hawthorne came into the kitchen
and asked, "Where are all the grit cakes?"
Uh oh.
Me: "Wha?"
Mr. H.: "The grit cakes. There were 4.
Two for me, one for you, and one for Dixie."
Me: (Thinking fast on my feet.) "Baaad, Dixie."
Dixie: Sulks and lowers head.
Mr. H.: "She ate 'em all?"
Me: "I guess so."
Mr. H.: "Liar."
Me: "But they were really, really good. I thought you'd already eaten."
Mr. H.: "Noooooo."
Me: (Cheerily) "Well, you can read all about them on my blog."
Mr. H.: Sulks, lowers head, retreats to his room.
Poor Mr. Hawthorne.
2 comments:
Food just sitting there, unattended? I'd say they were fair game.
Yeah, Mr Hawthorne. You snooze, you looze. I did that once to my at-the-time-spouse. I called him in for dinner, he preferred to stay outside talking endlessly to the neighbor, dinner was getting cold, I got mad and ate it all. He didn't repeat his mistake. I didn't repeat mine either.
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