Caught Red Handed

by Karen

Or why I don’t have a classy centerpiece on the table.

We don’t have a cookie jar. We don’t eat store bought cookies and I only make cookies once a month (for all you guys out there, that was a half-hearted period joke – if you’re still reading, you’re welcome to shift uncomfortably in your chair right now.) That fact has nothing to do with this story other than to inform that we do not have a cookie jar to tempt Weston into to stealing cookies. Which we all know leads to a life of money laundering and embezzling of funds.

Earlier today, I thought I would class up our kitchen a bit and put a bowl of fruit out on the table. Not only would it serve as decoration, it would be functional too! I picked up the woven basket in Bethesda, MD back in 2008 at a fair trade shoppe while working at the Leadership Training Institute. Don’t worry, it sounds a lot more important than it actually was. And yes, I just ended the previous sentence with a preposition. Deal with it. The basket held a bowl of fake plastic limes in our previous house. Today I learned why.

So my fancy pants idea of having a classy bowl of fruit on the table was a fail. My adorable son loves fruit. He loves fruit so much that he climbed up on the table and helped himself to a nectarine. Once he took a bite out of said nectarine, he moved on to the other nectarine in the basket. Afterwards, he (unsuccessfully) bit the lemon and then sampled the plum. The banana remained unpeeled because he lacks the dexterity to accomplish such a task on his own.

Once the sampling was complete, Weston found it completely necessary to dump the entire contents on the table. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I no longer have a classy centerpiece on the kitchen table.

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