The Egg Beater

Recently, Thobe found a hand operated beater in our kitchen utinsil drawer. Being the smart boy that he is, he immediately figured out how to operate the device and was very curious about what it's used for. I explained that one can beat many things with it, including eggs. Since that time, there have been few days that have gone by that Thobe hasn't asked me if he can make eggs. The worst thing about Thobe being so laid back is that it's easy for me to forget his queries because he usually only asks me only once. I know for those of you who have very persistant children that you are asking why this is a bad thing. Well, the worst thing about it is that I often feel that I have neglected my little sweetheart. I can't tell you how many times I go to bed with a sad and guilty heart because I realize I haven't done what I said I would with Thobe--I've got to do better with that. The second to the worst thing about Thobe only asking for things once is that he'll often try to take things into his own hands, which leads me to my story.

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I was not feeling great. I suppose that it had to do with me being 8 months pregnant. I also felt somewhat homesick. I recently realized that it will be 8 months before I see most of my family, and it seems like my efforts to get different family members out here have been for naught. Anyway, I suppose that is for another post. Nonetheless, despite making eggs for breakfast that he didn't eat, Thobe wanted to make more eggs when he got home from preschool. I told him that I needed to hurry and check my email and then we would see about making eggs. I went downstairs, and Thobe and Hyrum stayed upstairs. Everything got pretty quiet, and within five minutes or so, I heard Thobe say, "No, Hyrum, don't make a mess." Normally when I feel better, I go upstairs and stop the mess making immediately, but due to my state yesterday, I just silently prayed that the mess wouldn't be too bad.

After about 10 minutes, I heard Hyrum fall and cry his hurt cry. I went up to find a disaster in the kitchen. I know that I had approximately 2 dozen eggs in my fridge when I went downstairs. When I went upstairs, several eggs were cracked in a bowl and beaten. One or two broken eggs were glopped on the table, and the rest of the eggs had been thrown on the floor and stomped on. Six or seven containers of yogurt had been thrown out of the fridge and who knows what else was on the floor. When I saw the mess, I lost it and screamed. Thobe immediately ran upstairs, and then turned back around crying, "I'm so sorry, Mommy. I tried to clean it up, but I couldn't." Bless his heart, several eggy towels proved that he had in fact tried to clean up the mess, but as you can imagine cleaning up 2 dozen slimy eggs off the ground with a dish towel isn't an easy task for a four year old. I just started crying. I cried about thinking about bending over with my big pregnant belly to clean up the mess and cried for yelling at my little tender Thobe. I must admit that now that this horrible mess is a funny situation, but at the time I didn't see the humor in it and consequently have no pictures of the disaster.

On a brighter note, last night we had breakfast for dinner. We had pancakes, eggs with shells, and bacon--I actually got all the shells out of the eggs after cyphoning the shells out of the eggs. Thobe's efforts turned out to be actually a pretty good dinner. He asked me if we could have breakfast for dinner again tonight, but fortunately for me and unfortunately for him, we're all out of eggs.