Exhausted from a day of non-stop domesticity, I plopped into my chair at the dinner table, eager to taste the fruits of my many labors.
On the menu this evening was a colorful vegetable platter featuring the latest harvest from our garden, homemade ranch dip, freshly baked homemade rolls still warm from the oven, freshly canned chili sauce infused with tomatoes and onions from our garden, pink lemonade chilled with pristine ice cubes from my newly-cleaned freezer, and a succulent roast that had been simmering in the crock pot all day.
The Makings of Chili Sauce–13 pints of it!
(Of course, Vivi was still wearing her pajamas, and I hadn’t quite gotten around to finding the Disney princess-of-the-day panties so she was running around au naturale … but something’s gotta give on a day like today.)
As BT went to dish Vivi’s dinner, she halted him and, after examining the roast closely, innocently asked, “Daddy, is that poop?”
