So, this morning, Chris and I awoke suddenly, staring at one another wide-eyed as we heard what our fuzzy brains could only register as a fire alarm of some sort... but a little more distant than one would expect, considering we have an alarm in our bedroom.
What could it be, we wondered? The security alarm? No, in the many, many times Chris or I have accidentally set it off since we got it, it never sounded like that. Not my car alarm...
"Oh, wait!" Chris says, suddenly alert. "It's your cooking timer, I bet!" I roll over and check the time - seven what in the morning? My cooking timer? Huh?
He dashes off to go check and the silence that shortly followed confirmed his guess.
It was then that my sleepy mind began to roll back far enough... some 13-odd hours back... to the night before when Hayden decided she wanted to play with the kitchen timer. Because it beeps. And, apparently, because that's a fun trick to play on your parents the ONE MORNING we are attempting to sleep in.
Really, though, it's not all her fault. I could blame the one who's idea it was to hand it to her when she kept leaning and grunting, reaching for it (mine), or blame the one who forgot to check to make sure the damned thing was actually off and not set for 13 hours and 23 minutes of cooking time (ahem. CHRIS?!?!?)
I'm not sure what the kid was cooking, but I'm guessing she wanted it well done.
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