I tried to work a little supper magic tonight, but as I waved my wand over the empty freezer, all I came up with was a big fat nothing. Well, nothing interesting anyways. I was plumb out of ideas as to what to make with hamburger.
I sighed dramatically and said “I don’t know what to make for supper!” Some more sighing and a flick of the wrist to the forehead.
The Reverend became my hero (again) when he said “Let’s just order out”.
I tried not to look to eager as I
bolted meandered to the phone. Afterall, we do have just one restaurant in this tiny town. We’re that lucky. At that point, I didn’t care if we had ordered the same food every time I wanted a cooking break. The desire for a break is often, the reality of such a break is not.
In no time at all, it seemed, the food was on the table. Everyone was ravenous and the take-out cartons travelled quickly from one to another. I had snatched a bit of this or that as I juggled the styrofoam containers to and from little hands. The Cantonese Noodles were the last thing that I needed on my plate and everyone else had what they needed. As I shifted the steaming food over one of my kids’ heads and into my other hand a quick creak gave no warning that the food would suddenly be flung through the air as the container broke. Not even one noodle was left in the box and tears filled my eyes as I watched the noodles, shrimp and broccoli flail in the air, landing with an unceremonious pile on the floor.
There were a few moments of quiet. My more empathetic child looked at my tear-stained cheeks and started welling up himself.
I gathered my wits about me as I looked down at my feet. How many seconds had passed?
Surely not ten.
Whew! It was still good.