When your number's up

Those three inch tall brownies? Well they nearly killed my daughter today. Twice.

First they fell off the top of the fridge when Fia threw open the freezer looking for Popsicles for dessert. The pan slammed into her face and overturned on the floor. E ran to the aid of the brownies, I ran to the aid of my 4 year old who had a nosebleed. When the tears were dried and we resumed dinner, Wonderboy revisited the idea of dessert. E grumbled, "Dessert's in the trash."

"Oh, you know Daddy's gonna eat that after you go to bed." I replied. I couldn't help myself.

And he did. Wonderboy, Fia and daddy enjoyed Floor Brownies with ice cream. I know what's been on that floor and how often that floor is cleaned. I did not eat the Floor Brownies.

Later at bed time, things quickly deteriorated, as they always do, and one of us had to intervene...as we always do. The fiesta was in full swing in Fia's room. Wonderboy had filled her footed, zipper pajamas with toys. I extracted all toys, and then zipped up her bellybutton in the zipper. Crying jag numero dos.

Turned out the lights and asked her to lay down and sleep, (please, please, please???) and then made my way down the stairs. By the time my fanny was settled back on the sofa, bloodcurdling screams erupted. I sprung back up, stairs two at a time, and discovered her wedged between the head of the bed and wall. She wailed between sobs, "I was trying to get cozy and I fell down!!" I pried her out and pleaded with her to do her very best to survive the night.

E was chortling as I explained. Turns out Daddy pulled the bed from the wall looking for books. And then I guess maybe he lost himself in thoughts of brownies and ice cream and forgot to move the bed back. Brownies strike again.

The brownie pan is in the sink. We're done with brownies around here. At least for now. But I'll be watching carefully to see what food item turns lethal tomorrow.