Last Sunday we had mama's lasagne for Mother's Day dinner. I made four pans, because there never seems to be enough. One pan went directly into the freezer. Three pans went to Grandma's house for dinner. One of the three went into Grandma's freezer as part of her Mother's Day gift from me. Two pans went into the oven.
One of those two pans was eaten for dinner, and one glorious pan was left over to take home to eat later.
All the way home from grandma's, Eclair was salivating. Never mind that she had five helpings of lasagne at Grandma's house for dinner (out-eating even the boys).
"Anyone have a fork?" No, Eclair, you must wait until we get home, please. She couldn't stop talking about being starving for the entire 30 minute drive home.
When we arrived at home, she jumped right out of the car and ran to help empty things from the trunk. Usually she is the slow one, hoping the trunk is empty by the time she gets out of the car. She grabbed the large heavy pan from the trunk and started crowing her success.
Then came the CRASH.
Barefoot Ecliar is standing in the driveway, now surrounded by the slivers and shards of my favorite Pyrex dish. I scoop her up, hoping no slivers have found their way into her legs, before she has even had a chance to react to the disaster.
Then the screaming begins.
Is she upset because she is barefoot standing in broken glass?
Is she upset because she's been cut by broken glass?
Is she upset because she thinks she will be in trouble for breaking mama's favorite Pyrex dish?
The first words to make their way past the screaming and crying are:
"THAT'S A WASTE OF LASAGNE!!!!!!!"
Well, at least she has her priorities straight.