I wonder if there will ever come a day when I can make breakfast for my children without burning it. What is my deal with the toaster oven? I act like I'm allergic to it. Every morning starts with the best of intentions. I make half of a raisin bagel for my son and while it's toasting I do other things like pour their milk, and cut up the fruit that makes up River's breakfast and the rest of Owen's. I drop his vitamin on his plate and turn back to the toaster oven. This is where I get into trouble.
If the bagel is ready, I take it out and we sit down for breakfast but if it's not ready, I can't just stand there and stare at it, I need to find something else to do. I'll use this time to go to the bathroom, maybe take my vitamin, crank up my lap top, let the dog out. All these things should take less than minute so I plan to come right back, but that just never seems to happen. If I go to the bathroom or to take a vitamin, I end up reading something. If I crank up my laptop, I check my email and if I let the dog out, I stand on the deck and watch her like she needs my help. I usually end up running across the room at the last minute, throwing open the toaster oven and pulling it out with a fork. It would be sad enough to just do this every morning but I just did it again to Owen's corn dog bites! After I put his hot dog bites on the plate I touched one with a wet finger and it sizzled. Yeah, I can give that to my kid.
What is my problem? I know how to work a toaster oven. I've got a turnover in there now and as sure as I sit here, I just know I'm gonna burn that damn thing! I think the fact that I have zero patience is the issue. Also, my expectations are skewed. I mean when I was a kid, I was assured that by 2010, we'd be having space odysseys and pushing buttons for our food while Rosie vacuumed our homes with her mouth. What happened to that? I was lied to! I WANT MY HAL!
The good thing is that Owen has either developed a taste or just doesn't notice the burn spots, which I appreciate. River on the other hand is going to be an ass about it, I can just tell. If a banana is even the slightest bit soft, she refuses to eat it. It's my husband in her. She thinks she's too good for it. I'm sure it's just a mater of time before she starts dissing her shampoo and develops her own clothing palate (Hi Laura!) and tells me what she will and will not wear.
I can cook a mean chicken and the crock pot is my friend but this toaster oven is like that date I had once with a heavy breather. I can deal with it for a little while but once I've past my threshold, I just want to throw it down the stairs and run away screaming.
Also, didn't I say I'd burn that friggen turnover?