“Boys, what is the only rule when you do your kitchen experiments?”
“Don’t make anything explode,” Tyler offers. Experiments are usually his gig, but Tucker is joining him on this one.
I hadn’t thought of that rule, actually. “Yes. What is the second only rule?”
They look at me with blank distraction, surrounded by bottles of old salad dressing and crumbles of ramen noodles.
“You have to clean it up, guys.”
“Right! Yes! We will!” They promise.
They love to make little (and big) concoctions of this and that, a pinch of instant coffee, a handful of potato chips, a bowl of ice cubes, and a popsicle to mix it all together. And there’s almost always an egg or two in the mix.
It almost always ends up in my refrigerator with a verbal warning: Do Not Disturb this for Four Days.
There is always residual mess, but it’s the price one pays to nurture creativity. I make them tell me everything that’s in it before we pour it down the garbage disposal, when all is said and done.
This ingredient list included:
Harmless enough. I poured it down the disposal.
Then I heard chink-chink. Chink-chinkety-chink!@#$$%-chink-*&^%$&@-chink.
Tyler said, “Oh, and a couple of dimes.”