One minute

6:45am You realize it's amazing how many thoughts you can have in a minute. Your first instinct is to turn around, proceed promptly to the door and exit the premises. But then there's grandparents, husband and child service to contend with. In that order.

Next you think maybe if you yell loudly enough they will exit the premises. But then you would have to go find them after you clean up the hardening mess of flour, eggs and milk that are starting to make your kitchen look like a professional bread baker had a mild mental breakdown in it.  And they would inevitably forget to close the door behind them, so you would have to retrieve the dog too. And you would never make it back in time to make your 10 a.m. gyno appointment that you were so looking forward to. 

Your third thought is to calmly walk to the sink, get a cloth, and start scrubbing. But not before you go upstairs and get those furry handcuffs (nine Valentine's Days old) and strap both "bakers" to the stairs for a much needed time out. Furry handcuffs cure boredom, right?

So you yell loudly. And they don't, to your mild disappointment, exit the premises but both promptly burst into tears. The dog begins to lick up the mess of "batter" now dripping from your cupboards, onto the counter, and down into a neat puddle on the floor.

You grab a cloth and start scrubbing, ignoring the crying and the dog's ingestion of baking ingredients you will inevitably have to clean up in vomit form later. 

Besides, if you got the furry handcuffs you would have grandparents, husband, and child services to contend with. In that order.

The End

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