No, we’re not wasted away in Margaritaville. But a mom can dream…

Earlier this week, we had a playdate at a friend’s house and rushed home just in time for a quick lunch for the twins. Adam was very tired, so after plunking the twins down at the kitchen table with some munchies, I took Adam to his room to feed, rock, and put down for a nap. It’s a quick and easy job when he’s so sleepy, maybe 5 minutes. And the twins are used to eating on their own at that table while I deal with the baby. They’ll wander in with messy hands to tell me if they need something usually.

In hindsight, I should have known it seemed too quiet in the kitchen, I suppose. But I enjoyed the peace and time with Adam. I walked back into the kitchen ready to wipe them off, hit the potty, and do the naptime routine. But I found piles of salt. Everywhere. Like a whole shaker full. On the floor. On their plates. On the table. On their clothes. On their hands and faces. In their hair. Oh, and they were sooooo pleased with themselves. And they were already headed for a late nap even before the mess.

“Who did this????” I asked.

Avery proudly replied, “Avery and Alex did this!” Huge smile. She was thrilled.

Alex added, “Assah needed peppah sauce.”

Oh, well, that explains it.

The real problem is that the salt shaker had been clogged. And I clearly remember last week when Don went to salt something on his dinner plate, found the clog, and cleared it. A little too well, I guess.
Lesson learned.