Stupid acts have officially been outlawed in our house.
We had an overnight guest last night. And I actually had success in surviving the night by having the wee one sleep on an air mattress we purchased instead of putting my life in harm’s way by letting her sleep in my bed. I survived. Though I did have to get up in the middle of the night when I heard “Mamo…you should sleep down here.” Sigh.
Husband does wonderful “Po” duty by making her pancakes. And yes, by “making” I do mean getting them out of the freezer and microwaving them.
A short while later I realize she hasn’t had anything to drink and I ask her if she would like something.
She says she sure would.
I get out the little cup. I put the milk in. I get the bottle of Hershey’s syrup out of the fridge. Come on there’s nothing better than a Hershey Syrup Chocolate Milk. I open the lid and turn the bottle over and squirt out what should have been some delicious chocolateness.
The child and I nearly lost our previously eaten breakfasts.
My eyes did not comprehend the white and clear liquid coming out. Confusion reigned in my brain. My eyes registered the confusion before my olfactory senses did their obligatory duties of interpreting all odors that approach and threaten your well being.
My body was enveloped in gag producing, horrific, odors.
I immediately knew what had happened.
Wives have this ability. We know.
Husband has a habit of taking the Hershey bottles when the last of the syrup has been squeezed out and adding milk, slosh it around. Drink it. Getting every last drop of chocolate. And only then throws it in the recycle bin.
Apparently the last time he did this he hid it in the fridge. For me to find two months later. It was either a truly devious plan to make me ill. Or a stupid thing to do.
I prefer to think it was the latter.
Which is the (last) reason for me to create the new rules.
No. More. Stupid. Here.