Pie

Yesterday, I baked a pie - an apple pie. Now, before you think I've gone all Martha Stewart on you, let me explain why I baked a pie. It was a very cold and rainy day. Going outside for a jog was not an option and having extra heat from the oven sounded like a good idea. The grocery store was bursting with apples, so the only logical thing to do was bake an apple pie. Yes. It was a decision based on logic.

Anyway, Mike came home from work and just about fell over when he saw the pie. Attempting to sound excited, he said with poorly disguised fear, "You baked a pie!". After a dinner of hot posole (which I also cooked), he approached the pie with some caution. Slowly, he took a forkful. He didn't gag or make quick motions for a drink. Instead, he uttered with a straight face, "Did you really make this pie?".

Yes. It's hard to believe, but I really did make the pie - a pie that was edible! Then, I made Sarah squeaky clean.


Daddy said if I keep my fingers in my mouth, I might not have to eat mommy's cooking.