“Say cheese!” Those were the words that ran through my head as my family informed me of the very innocent but toxic mistake I made just a few nights ago as they sat down to eat the gourmet dinner I had prepared. From the top of the stairs my husbands voice could be heard through out the house, “your going to love this one” it was in the tone that told me someone did something and it was probably going to be story worthy and blogging kind of material.
I believe I responded with “what did he do now?” which I need to quit doing, my son informed me that I can’t always just blame him for things that mysteriously happen around the house, on the front porch, in the back yard, in the garage, through out the neighborhood, I just need to stop blaming my 12 year old like that, assuming that he is the one causing all the mischief.
Giggles from the top of the stairs floated through the air and straight into the kitchen, my ears were tickled with curiosity, “what could it be?” What was making my family laugh so hard and why were they being so secretive? They all three leaned over the banner of the staircase, peered into the kitchen, making eye contact with me causing me to grin right back at them.
A few moments of silence stood between us when finally, they spoke up, they were laughing and giggling with each other as they proceeded to tell me that I forgot to take off the plastic from the cheese I had used when I made my daughters’ grilled cheese sandwich. I could only imagine what was running through her mind as she tried to bite down into her warm toasty bread only finding it impossible to break through the cheese; I too could not help but grin, giggle and then breakout into laughter.
All of a sudden, things started to make sense as my thoughts went back to a few moments earlier while I was grilling my darling daughters’ sandwich. I had taken the spatula and pressed down on the top of the bread, I could see the cheese and remember thinking to myself, “I wonder why it isn’t oozing out?” but that was as far as my thoughts had gone.
As I snapped out of my thoughts and started too apologized to my daughter, she stopped me in mid-sentence with a “that’s OK mom, there was another piece of cheese on it” apparently that one was released from it’s wrapper before facing its fate. All was well again in the house but I did make a little note to self, grilled cheese sandwiches taste much better when the wrapper is removed.
A merry heart does good, like medicine.