It all started to go wrong when the bag of rice split. The water was boiling, the leeks were frying. The peppers were on the grill. The rice went everywhere.
Eloise was emptying out the pan cupboard. Noisily. Matilda was, well, being Matilda, and snooping around waiting from manna from heaven.
The smoke alarm went off. Did I say smoke alarm? I meant heat alarm. It goes off whenever the heat in the kitchen varies by more than a couple of degrees. It's very loud. You fix it by blowing hard in its general direction.
The lentils went on to the leeks, and Eloise decided she wanted some milk. So she hung on to my shorts shouting "Daa'ee!! More!! Pease!" until I relented. With a straw.
The alarm went off.
My concentration hampered, I attempted to get rid of some of the excess rice that was occupying portions of the hob.
Whilst engaged in this I temporarily became, how shall we say, aloof from the peppers.
The alarm went off.
The lentils were doing fine, the rice needed another five minutes. Eloise had put down the milk and was now playing frisbee with trays.
I remembered that the peppers existed.
Peeling peppers is a bastard. It takes me ages because I haven't figured out a quick way to do it yet. Especially when they're hot and you're in a race against time and the other cooking.
The alarm didn't go off.
I put Eloise in her high chair with her milk.
I decanted things, mixed them together, and served up.
I went over to the table. Eloise's milk was no longer in the cup. It was all over the chair, the floor and the dogs.
I vented my frustration on the dogs by banishing them to another room, and fetched more milk for the Monkey. Mopped up the milk, which was all over the place, with kitchen towel, while she giggled at me. Went to put kitchen towel in recycling bin.
Recycling bin had been removed from casing. Had been placed in middle of table and covered with tea towel.
Frustration built to a low growl in the larynx and a slight bulging of the eye sockets.
Sat down, took deep breath, started to eat. Eating went well for a few minutes. Eloise then decided she wanted to pur her milk all over her food. When she decides to do this she slowly tips her cup, looking you straight in the eye with a knowing smile on her face which says "Go on. Stop me. Try it."
We had a tug of war over the cup of milk, with me calmly stating my disapproval through repeated use of the word "No" and her feverishly stating hers through repeated use of the word "No." And squeals.
Something had to give; the cup flew away across the room, milk flying everywhere.
My calm "No"s gave way to a roar of animal rage and frustration and my eyes bulged until they pushed my spectacles off my face. My T-shirt began to stretch across my biceps... oh hang on, you can probably tell I'm exaggerating now.
As I mopped up, underneath the high chair, Eloise patted my head a ruffled my hair, and I couldn't help myself smiling.
The cheeky little bugger.
Eloise was emptying out the pan cupboard. Noisily. Matilda was, well, being Matilda, and snooping around waiting from manna from heaven.
The smoke alarm went off. Did I say smoke alarm? I meant heat alarm. It goes off whenever the heat in the kitchen varies by more than a couple of degrees. It's very loud. You fix it by blowing hard in its general direction.
The lentils went on to the leeks, and Eloise decided she wanted some milk. So she hung on to my shorts shouting "Daa'ee!! More!! Pease!" until I relented. With a straw.
The alarm went off.
My concentration hampered, I attempted to get rid of some of the excess rice that was occupying portions of the hob.
Whilst engaged in this I temporarily became, how shall we say, aloof from the peppers.
The alarm went off.
The lentils were doing fine, the rice needed another five minutes. Eloise had put down the milk and was now playing frisbee with trays.
I remembered that the peppers existed.
Peeling peppers is a bastard. It takes me ages because I haven't figured out a quick way to do it yet. Especially when they're hot and you're in a race against time and the other cooking.
The alarm didn't go off.
I put Eloise in her high chair with her milk.
I decanted things, mixed them together, and served up.
I went over to the table. Eloise's milk was no longer in the cup. It was all over the chair, the floor and the dogs.
I vented my frustration on the dogs by banishing them to another room, and fetched more milk for the Monkey. Mopped up the milk, which was all over the place, with kitchen towel, while she giggled at me. Went to put kitchen towel in recycling bin.
Recycling bin had been removed from casing. Had been placed in middle of table and covered with tea towel.
Frustration built to a low growl in the larynx and a slight bulging of the eye sockets.
Sat down, took deep breath, started to eat. Eating went well for a few minutes. Eloise then decided she wanted to pur her milk all over her food. When she decides to do this she slowly tips her cup, looking you straight in the eye with a knowing smile on her face which says "Go on. Stop me. Try it."
We had a tug of war over the cup of milk, with me calmly stating my disapproval through repeated use of the word "No" and her feverishly stating hers through repeated use of the word "No." And squeals.
Something had to give; the cup flew away across the room, milk flying everywhere.
My calm "No"s gave way to a roar of animal rage and frustration and my eyes bulged until they pushed my spectacles off my face. My T-shirt began to stretch across my biceps... oh hang on, you can probably tell I'm exaggerating now.
As I mopped up, underneath the high chair, Eloise patted my head a ruffled my hair, and I couldn't help myself smiling.
The cheeky little bugger.
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