Parenting Moments: the eight-egg challenge

So I decided I need to start archiving some of the cute stories about my kids. Yeah, I know, not everybody’s interested, but hey, it’s my blog 🙂

Sara volunteered to cook dinner tonight — bacon and eggs. My children seem to learn best the same way I do, by experience, and particularly by screwing up.

We discussed the particulars of bacon and egg cooking in the front room. “OK, now Sara, the first part of this is a math problem: how many eggs do we need to cook? Well, I’ll eat two. You’ll probably eat two. Zach and Elijah will probably only eat one apiece or so. Christy will probably have two when she comes home, and there probably will be enough left over for little Joshua. How many eggs do you need to prepare?”

Sara thought for a moment, then replied, “Eight!”

Having just arrived home from a hard day, I headed up to the facilities to do the usual “just finished a one-hour commute after drinking way too much water” duties. Upon completion, I walked downstairs, and began setting up my laptop in the front room on a large table set aside for the purpose.

“Hey, Dad!” called Sara from the kitchen, “This is so cool! Did you know that I can carry eight eggs, cradled in my arms, from the refrigerator to the stove?”

I stifled a grin, knowing what was coming. “No, Sara, I didn’t know that. That’s pretty impressive. How did you manage to carry eight at once?”

The answer was the unmistakable sound of an egg smashing from a height of roughly four feet onto a vinyl floor echoing in my ears. I gently shook my head side to side, a half-cocked grin on my face as I plugged in the power cord and mouse on my laptop. I chuckled softly to myself.

“Well,” Sara intoned ruefully from the kitchen, “I can carry seven, at least.”