My children accused me of attempted murder last night.
Through their tears.
And their dry heaves (seriously guys?).
You may be wondering what I did to deserve this heinous indictment and I will tell you.
I gave them sandwiches.
For dinner.
THAT'S RIGHT....I DEIGNED TO FEED MY LITTLES WITH THESE SMALL ROLLS OF MEATY DEATH!
(rolls of death also known as chicken sandwich rolls)
Lest you think there was actual poisoning involved you should know that I did actually eat some of the food before forcing it on my offspring (that's how I know for sure it was non-lethal). However, despite this selfless act and its resulting proof of their non-toxic nature my babies still nearly died when these rolls hit their plates. Death by cheese and lunch meat.
Sad.
I know, I know, this crime is nearly unforgivable. I actually REQUIRED each child to eat at least one roll before getting up from the table. It almost qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.
It's a sad day for me as a mother.
I don't know if they will ever forgive me.
(FYI: My brother's new in-laws were super super sweet and sent us home from the wedding last night with this tray of rolled up meals and darned if I was going to let them go to waste just because my kids were afraid of how they looked. My babies like chicken and cheese and tortillas and lettuce so really, what is the problem. Sigh. Oh well, it made for one truly dynamic evening, but in the end everyone came out unscathed.)
However, it was nothing a little ice cream couldn't cure. We all ended up full bellied and happy by the onset of night.
It's always an adventure around here.
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