You won't be surprised that I stayed inside with the baby, rather than roast her accidentally. So, I stuck some tater tots into the oven for about 20 minutes, and when the buzzer went off, I set the table and hollered out to the Hub and three kids: when are the dogs gonna be ready? I was met with four pairs of sheepish eyes, and one extra pair from a neighbor boy. There, on a little make-shift table were buns and condiments...
I then heard a tall tale of how the dogs were 'falling' into the fire... and they had one for now... which I fed to the baby like a good parent (cut up, of course). I then sent #3, who had popped in to tell me about his open-fire-cooking-back-to-the-Neanderthal-experience, to get me another. #2 was sent in reply: sorry, we have no more hotdogs, Mom.
WHAT? There were 14 hotdogs? Where are yours? Hmmmm, they had been eating theirs fireside. They were all gone.
I ate some tater tots, sans ketchup cause I was too angry to march down the back stairs and retrieve it!!!! Then, the masses and sweet neighbor boy brought a few marshmallows as a peace offering; they are forgiven. The Hub is not... he knew better.
So, rather than stay mad, I will plot revenge.
Tomorrow night is roasted chicken with potatoes and sugar snap peas.
Too bad he won't get a plate!
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