You know this is not my kitchen.
1. Attempt to remove baby, who has superglued himself to your hip. (With imaginary superglue.) Fail.
2. Try again! Fail again.
3. Try to distract baby with siblings! toys! backyard! shoes! a pile of clean laundry to knock over!
4. Fail.
5. Peel garlic with baby’s help.
6. Put baby down very briefly in order to start water boiling for pasta.
7. Heat oil and crushed red pepper on the stovetop. Fumble to get garlic in garlic press with one free hand.
8. Watch in bewilderment as baby decides, without warning, to crawl amiably away.
9. Crush garlic. Crush garlic. Start to crush third clove of garlic when arm of garlic peeler snaps off, flinging bits of rust into your oil and garlic and crushed red pepper. Blink.
10. Spend one brief moment wondering whether you can spin Spaghetti with Rust Sauce for dinner.
11. Hear baby cry out from next room. Turn off all burners. Abandon half-heated water. Abandon saucepan of rust flakes. Abandon broken garlic press. Pick up baby, who is more fun than a broken garlic press, anyway.
12. Encourage snacking.
[Photo via.]
{ 4 comments }
Ah, I remember it well. I had to cook with Miss M. in the baby bjorn for eight. Awkward.
Advanced planning would come in handy at times like these. Except it’s not like I have time in which to execute such plans…
But the real question is – was the pasta cooked when you served it, or was it crunchy Spaghetti with Rust sauce?
Dane came home about five minutes later, and decided to make vegetable soup instead! Which means I have to try to make the spaghetti again tonight. Hmm.