The Saga of "What's for Dinner?"

In Which Toa of Boy Has a Near-Death Experience without Realizing It.

The Setting:

The kitchen. The table is 2/3 covered with a cheap plastic disposable tablecloth, the surface of which is barely visible beneath an assortment of pinecones, sugargums, small sticks, dried grass, pebbles, and other found objects on one side AND piles of 2" fabric squares, empty glue bottles, lids to said glue bottles, scissors, an inverted bowl--half covered in glue soaked squares, a plastic container of watered down glue, and veritable lake of watery glue on the other side of the table. The third of the table not covered in a plastic cloth and filled with crafts holds an undead houseplant that has been neglected for too long, a bowl of fresh fruit which sits in strange juxtaposition next to its withered and brown neighbor, and an assortment of crafts and plaques which were gifts from Christmas 2009 and still haven't been hung on the walls. The counter, yes, single counter, is still covered in containers of Christmas cookies....most of which only have two or three cookies, but no one has gotten around to combining them. The stovetop is covered in plastic containers which used to hold the New Years Day Chinese food feast, but have now been washed and set to dry before being moved into storage to come out next December for use as cookie containers.

The Time:

 Shortly after 3:14 pm. I know this for a fact because at precisely 3:14 by the microwave clock, a certain young lady became uncharacteristically animated, exclaiming repeatedly, "Mommy, Mommy! It's three fourteen! It's three fourteen!" A bewildered Mommy finally figured out what the cause of excitement was....It was pi time. And Sweetling tries to claim she doesn't like math anymore.

The Events Just Prior to the Experience:

Sweetling had finished up her African elephant crafted completely out of found nature objects. The elephant had had is mandatory photo shoot, and had been relocated to the top of Sweetling's desk. Sweetling had not yet come back to deal with the hills of found objects still covering the table. Toa of Boy was just finishing up his "woven" basket. He was still dipping squares of fabric in the half glue/half water mixture and smacking them on the side of the inverted, saran-wrap covered bowl. I could tell that he was nearing the end of his patience, and being the kind, gentle hearted mother that I am, was coming to help him finish up. (After taking his picture of course.) Helping involved coming close to the sticky, gluey mess without letting Toa touch me or letting the sleeves of my sweater dunk themselves into the glue mixture.

The Near-Death Part:

Toa of Boy asked, "Mommy? What's for dinner?"

Mommy answered honestly, "I have absolutely no idea."

Toa: "What's for dinner, Mommy? What are our options?"

Mommy: "I have no idea."

Toa: "What do we have, Mommy?"

Mommy: "I don't know. I haven't loooked yet."

Toa: "Are you going to cook something?" (We've been having lots of leftovers this week.)

Mommy: "I. Don't. Know. "

Toa: "What is there to cook, Mommy?"

Mommy: "I don't know; I've been a little busy, and I haven't looked yet." (What is that about insanity being repeating the same thing and expecting a different outcome?)

Toa: "Well, you better hurry up with it, cause you have less than two hours till dinner time."