Kitchen forensics


SIX (six!) cracked eggshells, perched atop the already too-full countertop compost bin.

SLUG-TRAILS of egg-goo criscrossing the stovetop and adjacent counter.

ONE ketchup-covered plate, unrinsed, tossed into the sink.

The word "EGGS", scrawled onto the magnetic shopping list attached to the refrigerator door, in handwriting that surely belonged to Seth.

(This last is a good sign – it means I've got him trained to add items to the grocery list when we run out.)

The teenager did not have to tell me what he made himself for an after-school snack. The evidence in the kitchen spoke volumes on his behalf.

Photo borrowed from this site

My name is Meg. I live with one husband, three boys, and a fat dog who has yet to admit that he stole the half loaf of homemade bread off of the kitchen island and ate the entire thing on Saturday night.

Welcome to my world.

2 thoughts on “Kitchen forensics

  1. I am pretty sure that Seth and Deanna were separated at birth… other than my training has not helped with the list department.

  2. My boy can cook some eggs too. Clean up and add items to a list? Surely you jest.
    Today I walked in to “no school today brownies.” I’ll be scrubbing chocolate off the ceiling and walls for years to come.
    Or not.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s