Charlie has discovered a new Guy in his life: Eggy. After dyeing a couple dozen eggs green for Easter, he now considers each and every oblong spheroid to be his nearest and dearest friend.
Tonight, I cruelly stood in the kitchen and cracked Eggy after Eggy after Eggy, viciously sloshing his innards from one half of his shattered former exterior into the other, separating his golden nucleus from his mucous surroundings. I was then dropping said golden nucleus, still clinging itself together by the sheer forces of hope and a solid protein base, into a bowl to be ripped apart by the rapid tattoo of the whirring mixer.
EGGY! he cried, lunging for each and every one of his ten eviscerated pals until Daddy appeared to drag his wailing and writhing form into bed. All the time, Daddy was making promises of NEW Eggies to be purchased tomorrow, after the store woke up. After all, even the store has Pajama Time.
It's probably a good thing that he went to bed a good hour before I poured the remaining whites of those ten Eggy guys into the bowl and beat them into stiff white peaks. Even more insulting, I then folded them into the batter of a cake that Charlie isn't even allowed to eat.
It's hard sitting there in the kitchen, watching your friends go, one by one. Poor fella.
1 comment:
The way you described it made me a little sad and I didn't even "know" eggy!
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