Once, in a public forum that was recorded and posted on the internets, I said that I would gladly die for my children. And I meant it.
Yesterday, when Lucy asked to make waffles for her birthday, at first I said no way.
|Sometimes non-electric really sucks.|
You see, in one of my many we-must-reduce-our-environmental-footprint moments, I purchased this non-electric waffle iron. It causes me great pain, and not just the burn marks it inflicts from needing to flip it to cook each side and the fact that it sometimes falls apart mid-flip. No, there is psychic pain too. Waffles served with a side of cursing. Cursing baked right in! And then, of course, the guilt afterwards.
I have tended to shy away from my non-electric waffle iron in recent months.
But Lucy asked for waffles on her birthday. And I had a flashback to sitting in front of my teacher, in front of my sangha, with a microphone to my mouth and saying to all gathered, "I would gladly die for my children."
So, waffles it was! And I even made peace with my waffle iron. So, cheers, you little cast iron motherf****r! It's all BFF from here on in.