The Difficulty with Pooing
There once was a little girl - we'll call her Gabby - who had difficulty pooing. She had such difficulty, in fact, that the paediatrician prescribed her some medicine to "assist" her in "voiding" the contents of her bowel, no matter what her psyche tells her.
The doctor said to Gabby's mom and dad, give her a teaspoon of this medicine every day.
The intention was that Gabby's dad would give Gabby a teaspoon of her medicine in the morning with her breakfast. But sometimes Gabby's dad would forget and Gabby's mom would give her her medicine later in the day.
The medicine seemed to work for a little while and then Gabby seemed to have trouble again.
So back to the paediatrician the family went and the doctor said, "Okay. Up the dosage. Two teaspoons of medicine a day."
Well, the kindergarten teacher phoned Gabby's mom on two consecutive days saying that Gabby had had a kind of explosive poop, twice in the day, and had required assistance with the bum-wiping and clean-up (not in the kindergarten teacher's job description, which made Gabby's mom feel very badly).
Gabby's mom decided that she had no choice but to keep Gabby from kindergarten until they figured the whole thing out. She deliberated and deliberated about the explosions of poop with her husband. She said to him, over dinner one night, "I just don't know what to do? We can't send her to school with this problem. I mean, maybe the two teaspoons was just too much for her?"
Gabby's dad looked up from his food, "Two TEASPOONS?"
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
Blog Fog
I have hit a blogging block. It's a blog fog.
I used to blog about quirky things that happen to me that struck me as funny.
Sometimes other people found these things funny too.
Lately, my life is made up of one to three hour bouts of carrying around a baby, consoling his crying, changing his diaper, feeding him and cleaning up puke. Oh yes, and hours and hours of burping him. Burping is very, very key.
Funny things involve changing his clothes three times in four minutes because of the rapid-repeat puking. Being peed on. The faint cheesy smell that emanates from him after he's puked on himself. But these things are funny in an ironical sense and it is sometimes even hard for me to see the humour in them. On any given day, they can make me both laugh and cry.
The upswings:
I have had two mini glasses of wine (since Valentine's day).
I ate sushi today.
My husband is a wonderful, wonderful man.
I have lots of loving relatives and friends who are willing to help out.
Cole snores and it's cute and he's sleeping when he does it and that is also good.
Everyone says that things are tough now but they get better/easier/more manageable.
Note to my family:
Expect Christmas presents that can all be purchased from the comfort of my computer desk.
I have hit a blogging block. It's a blog fog.
I used to blog about quirky things that happen to me that struck me as funny.
Sometimes other people found these things funny too.
Lately, my life is made up of one to three hour bouts of carrying around a baby, consoling his crying, changing his diaper, feeding him and cleaning up puke. Oh yes, and hours and hours of burping him. Burping is very, very key.
Funny things involve changing his clothes three times in four minutes because of the rapid-repeat puking. Being peed on. The faint cheesy smell that emanates from him after he's puked on himself. But these things are funny in an ironical sense and it is sometimes even hard for me to see the humour in them. On any given day, they can make me both laugh and cry.
The upswings:
I have had two mini glasses of wine (since Valentine's day).
I ate sushi today.
My husband is a wonderful, wonderful man.
I have lots of loving relatives and friends who are willing to help out.
Cole snores and it's cute and he's sleeping when he does it and that is also good.
Everyone says that things are tough now but they get better/easier/more manageable.
Note to my family:
Expect Christmas presents that can all be purchased from the comfort of my computer desk.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A Moment in a Day in My Life
My sister has a friend who had a very, very colicky baby. This friend had a really difficult time adjusting to her new life with no sleep and the very high demands of a newborn. I can understand, to a degree, as I have been struggling a bit with my emotions and the adjustment to my new responsibilities. A public health nurse put it quite plainly when she explained to this friend that you need to allow yourself to "mourn your past life". I know it sounds like a terrible, terrible thing to allow yourself to be sad at a time that everyone says you must cherish and be joyous during. But I found that advice comforting. It gives a new parent permission to grieve for the loss of their independence and self-centredness.
One of Mark's co-workers is pregnant and she is due in a month. At lunch last Friday, she said that she didn't think her life was going to change much. And I think that nothing I could say or Mark could say to her could help her realize just how incredibly huge the change will be in her life when that baby is born. It is just something you have to live through to know.
Today, I had an I-can't-believe-this-is-my-life moment.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed, near an electrical outlet, trying to pump milk and feeling a bit like a dairy cow. I was feeling discouraged due to the tiny volume of the milk appearing in the bottle. Then the baby threw up... projectile-like, out of the crib and onto the carpet.
Then I heard the cat throw up....twice.
My sister has a friend who had a very, very colicky baby. This friend had a really difficult time adjusting to her new life with no sleep and the very high demands of a newborn. I can understand, to a degree, as I have been struggling a bit with my emotions and the adjustment to my new responsibilities. A public health nurse put it quite plainly when she explained to this friend that you need to allow yourself to "mourn your past life". I know it sounds like a terrible, terrible thing to allow yourself to be sad at a time that everyone says you must cherish and be joyous during. But I found that advice comforting. It gives a new parent permission to grieve for the loss of their independence and self-centredness.
One of Mark's co-workers is pregnant and she is due in a month. At lunch last Friday, she said that she didn't think her life was going to change much. And I think that nothing I could say or Mark could say to her could help her realize just how incredibly huge the change will be in her life when that baby is born. It is just something you have to live through to know.
Today, I had an I-can't-believe-this-is-my-life moment.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed, near an electrical outlet, trying to pump milk and feeling a bit like a dairy cow. I was feeling discouraged due to the tiny volume of the milk appearing in the bottle. Then the baby threw up... projectile-like, out of the crib and onto the carpet.
Then I heard the cat throw up....twice.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Jeopardy
I'm not a big fan of Jeopardy, but Mark really is. And lately, with all the newness and craziness of there suddenly being three Perons (one is a lot more demanding than the others), watching Jeopardy in the evening with Mark has become one of the landmarks by which I measure the normalcy of my life. Luckily, with satellite, if we miss the 7:30 show, we can just watch Jeopardy at 8:30 or 9:30.
So we were watching the Final Jeopardy question and the category was Literary Characters. Mark hesitated and then said, "Hmmmm. I think I'll bet the farm." It always amuses me when he pretends to contemplate this decision because no matter how he deliberates or what the category, he will always end up "betting the farm".
I said, "Of course, honey, you always bet the farm."
Mark turned and looked at me quite seriously and said, "I have a son now. I have to be more careful. I can't go around betting all my farms."
I smiled.
Then he added, "Especially if he's going to be a cabbage farmer."
I'm not a big fan of Jeopardy, but Mark really is. And lately, with all the newness and craziness of there suddenly being three Perons (one is a lot more demanding than the others), watching Jeopardy in the evening with Mark has become one of the landmarks by which I measure the normalcy of my life. Luckily, with satellite, if we miss the 7:30 show, we can just watch Jeopardy at 8:30 or 9:30.
So we were watching the Final Jeopardy question and the category was Literary Characters. Mark hesitated and then said, "Hmmmm. I think I'll bet the farm." It always amuses me when he pretends to contemplate this decision because no matter how he deliberates or what the category, he will always end up "betting the farm".
I said, "Of course, honey, you always bet the farm."
Mark turned and looked at me quite seriously and said, "I have a son now. I have to be more careful. I can't go around betting all my farms."
I smiled.
Then he added, "Especially if he's going to be a cabbage farmer."
Cole Bear
I heard Mark calling our little one "Cole Bear", which was kind of fitting since Cole's Kokum referred to him as "Little Bear" once. So I started to call him "Cole Bear" too.
Then, one day, I was contemplating out loud how the name "Cole Bear" made any sense. It's not like it's a real type of bear, I mentioned to Mark. Not like a Koala Bear or anything.
That is when he explained that he was referring to Colbert.
I heard Mark calling our little one "Cole Bear", which was kind of fitting since Cole's Kokum referred to him as "Little Bear" once. So I started to call him "Cole Bear" too.
Then, one day, I was contemplating out loud how the name "Cole Bear" made any sense. It's not like it's a real type of bear, I mentioned to Mark. Not like a Koala Bear or anything.
That is when he explained that he was referring to Colbert.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
About a Name
Cole doesn't have a glamourous meaning.
Some books say it means "cabbage farmer".
Yet, some books do say it means "victory to the people".
And if you look at the meaning of cabbage farmer, it enlightens us to why Colesaw is named as it is, being made primarily of cabbage.
Shortly after announcing Cole's birth, we received an e-mail from Mark's friend Jeff, who shares in his ecclectic taste in music. Jeff asked, "Is Cole going to be a Black Lips singer?" This reference was made, of course, because the lead singer for the Black Lips is named Cole.
So I asked Mark, "Is Cole named after the singer in the Black Lips?"
And he looked at me and said, "I don't know. You suggested the name Cole."
And I frowned and said, "No. You definitely were the first to suggest Cole."
"No, I'm sure I didn't."
And so the story goes - no one knows who named our little boy.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Multitasking at its Best
Today, I had another obstetrician appointment. Dr. Liske sometimes seems to have a huge backlog of patients and other days, she seems to be completely on-time. I wondered how this huge discrepancy could arise from week to week. She always seemed so professional yet efficient during my appointments, I didn't see her wasting a lot of time. Why then, could she get six patients behind some days?
Well today was one of those days where there are too many patients for the number of seats in the waiting room. And just as I sensed my turn was approaching, about fifteen minutes after my scheduled appointment, I saw Dr. Liske snatch up her red jacket (that matched her Crocs), throw it on overtop of her scrubs and breeze out of the office with a quick but gentle mention to her secretary, "I'll be right back."
The secretary exclaimed to the other secretary, "I hate it when this happens." Then she looked at me apologetically and said, "Do you mind waiting a little while? Dr. Liske has to deliver someone."
My eyebrows went up. Surely this would take longer than "a little while". But I had taken the Burlington city bus to the Appleby GO train station, ridden the GO for fifteen minutes, then walked for 20 minutes with a severely over-loaded bladder to get here and I wasn't going to go through that again on another day, so I opted to stay.
Twenty minutes later, the secretary looked up and said to me, "She's back....and Melissa, you're up next." I stood, not having seen the doctor actually re-enter the office. And sure enough the secretary suddenly said, "Oh don't stand in the doorway, she's about to come through...."
I stepped to one side and turned around and Dr. Liske swept in like an autumn breeze, already removing her jacket, and smiling at me as she walked she said, "Okay, Melissa. Here I am. I'm sorry about the delay."
I was baffled that that was how long it takes the good doctor to:
a) race across the parking lot to the hospital (it's a ten minute walk for me door-to-door)
b) get to the proper birthing suite
c) get scrubbed up
d) tell the lady to push, push, push
e) make the catch
f) stitch where necessary
g) deliver the placenta (if you don't know about that stage of labour, you need to read more books)
h) race back across the parking lot to the office building and climb the stairs to the front door
It gave new meaning to the word "multitasking". I remember thinking some days that I was just racing around without a moment to think or breathe. Well, suddenly all those feelings seemed trivial compared to this woman's typical day.
Dr. Liske was at my side in moments while I stood on the scale. "Again, sorry about that," she said. "Oh goodness, don't worry. Don't rush," I said, "Is everyone alright? Mum and baby?"
The doctor smiled at me as we entered her office, "Babies. It was twins."
Today, I had another obstetrician appointment. Dr. Liske sometimes seems to have a huge backlog of patients and other days, she seems to be completely on-time. I wondered how this huge discrepancy could arise from week to week. She always seemed so professional yet efficient during my appointments, I didn't see her wasting a lot of time. Why then, could she get six patients behind some days?
Well today was one of those days where there are too many patients for the number of seats in the waiting room. And just as I sensed my turn was approaching, about fifteen minutes after my scheduled appointment, I saw Dr. Liske snatch up her red jacket (that matched her Crocs), throw it on overtop of her scrubs and breeze out of the office with a quick but gentle mention to her secretary, "I'll be right back."
The secretary exclaimed to the other secretary, "I hate it when this happens." Then she looked at me apologetically and said, "Do you mind waiting a little while? Dr. Liske has to deliver someone."
My eyebrows went up. Surely this would take longer than "a little while". But I had taken the Burlington city bus to the Appleby GO train station, ridden the GO for fifteen minutes, then walked for 20 minutes with a severely over-loaded bladder to get here and I wasn't going to go through that again on another day, so I opted to stay.
Twenty minutes later, the secretary looked up and said to me, "She's back....and Melissa, you're up next." I stood, not having seen the doctor actually re-enter the office. And sure enough the secretary suddenly said, "Oh don't stand in the doorway, she's about to come through...."
I stepped to one side and turned around and Dr. Liske swept in like an autumn breeze, already removing her jacket, and smiling at me as she walked she said, "Okay, Melissa. Here I am. I'm sorry about the delay."
I was baffled that that was how long it takes the good doctor to:
a) race across the parking lot to the hospital (it's a ten minute walk for me door-to-door)
b) get to the proper birthing suite
c) get scrubbed up
d) tell the lady to push, push, push
e) make the catch
f) stitch where necessary
g) deliver the placenta (if you don't know about that stage of labour, you need to read more books)
h) race back across the parking lot to the office building and climb the stairs to the front door
It gave new meaning to the word "multitasking". I remember thinking some days that I was just racing around without a moment to think or breathe. Well, suddenly all those feelings seemed trivial compared to this woman's typical day.
Dr. Liske was at my side in moments while I stood on the scale. "Again, sorry about that," she said. "Oh goodness, don't worry. Don't rush," I said, "Is everyone alright? Mum and baby?"
The doctor smiled at me as we entered her office, "Babies. It was twins."
What does nesting look like?
Well, I'm not really big into cleaning...however, over the past three and a half days of my maternity leave, I have:
cleaned the shower curtain
scrubbed the kitchen floor
dusted and vacuumed the bedroom
made the bed three times (record-shattering)
prepared lunches
learned to make coffee
marked four class sets of labs
written a dozen Thank You cards
made fruit salad
made four lasagnas
made three shepherd's pies
made 89 perogies
I cringe at the thought of having another six days before BP's arrival. I'm not sure we have enough room in our freezer for that.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Kokum's Gift
My stepmother came to visit me on Monday to bring BP (Baby Peron) a surprise gift. She had lovingly restored the baby bassinet that me and my siblings, our father and his father slept in as babies. She had re-painted the wicker, hand-stitched ribbon around a beautiful lacey fabric and mounted it to the bassinet and she had carefully tied ribbons around it. In addition, she had added the four medicines of native tradition in order to protect BP. These medicines are sweetgrass, sage, cedar and tobacco.
Carmen will be BP's Kokum, which I believe is the Cree word for Grandmother. She lovingly refers to my father as her "Gray Bear". And as she was driving to bring the newly re-furbished bassinet to our house, she said it occurred to her that BP is "Little Bear".
This beautiful bassinet is a gift to all of the grandchildren of this generation, of which Little Bear will be just the first, I'm sure. And we will pass it on to the others when they need it. What a wonderful gift from Kokum - the gift of roots.
My stepmother came to visit me on Monday to bring BP (Baby Peron) a surprise gift. She had lovingly restored the baby bassinet that me and my siblings, our father and his father slept in as babies. She had re-painted the wicker, hand-stitched ribbon around a beautiful lacey fabric and mounted it to the bassinet and she had carefully tied ribbons around it. In addition, she had added the four medicines of native tradition in order to protect BP. These medicines are sweetgrass, sage, cedar and tobacco.
Carmen will be BP's Kokum, which I believe is the Cree word for Grandmother. She lovingly refers to my father as her "Gray Bear". And as she was driving to bring the newly re-furbished bassinet to our house, she said it occurred to her that BP is "Little Bear".
This beautiful bassinet is a gift to all of the grandchildren of this generation, of which Little Bear will be just the first, I'm sure. And we will pass it on to the others when they need it. What a wonderful gift from Kokum - the gift of roots.
Monday, November 03, 2008
GRAYMATTER
There was a United Way silent auction through work. I bid on a few items, such as a board game called GRAYMATTER. Mark loves trivia and I got it for only $7.00. Considering that is all going to worthwhile causes, it's money well spent.
Some of the silent auction items were donated by folks, including the United Way rep, Shane, our very own Big-Lebowski-look-alike, whom I happen to know owns his own "junk" store (his words, not mine). It got me wondering why this nearly-new-looking game, Graymatter, was in the silent auction at all. Wouldn't it be snatched up in minutes from the shelves of the store? Perhaps it was just one of those gems that he was generously offering, or perhaps there was some unforeseen flaw.
Well, I haven't played the game yet, but it has been sitting on my coffee table for a week or so and I began to read the writing on the box and.....I think I found the flaw.
The slogans.
The catchy little phrases on the side of the board game box are supposed to intrigue and attract a player, right? Well, Graymatter has some the worst slogans I have ever read on a board game.
Here are the two slogans:
Graymatter..... Everyone's got it!
and
Graymatter.... It'll get you saying, Hmmmmmm.....I didn't know that!
There was a United Way silent auction through work. I bid on a few items, such as a board game called GRAYMATTER. Mark loves trivia and I got it for only $7.00. Considering that is all going to worthwhile causes, it's money well spent.
Some of the silent auction items were donated by folks, including the United Way rep, Shane, our very own Big-Lebowski-look-alike, whom I happen to know owns his own "junk" store (his words, not mine). It got me wondering why this nearly-new-looking game, Graymatter, was in the silent auction at all. Wouldn't it be snatched up in minutes from the shelves of the store? Perhaps it was just one of those gems that he was generously offering, or perhaps there was some unforeseen flaw.
Well, I haven't played the game yet, but it has been sitting on my coffee table for a week or so and I began to read the writing on the box and.....I think I found the flaw.
The slogans.
The catchy little phrases on the side of the board game box are supposed to intrigue and attract a player, right? Well, Graymatter has some the worst slogans I have ever read on a board game.
Here are the two slogans:
Graymatter..... Everyone's got it!
and
Graymatter.... It'll get you saying, Hmmmmmm.....I didn't know that!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
The Continuum
Pregnancy is a continuum.
People like to neatly categorize animals and behaviours and stages of life into perfectly distinct categories, but I am beginning to think that none exist. First trimester, Week 16, "the first kick", the on-set of morning sickness, pre-labour and then real-labour.
Bearing in mind that I am NOT yet experienced in all facets of the "being pregnant" then the "no longer being pregnant" phases of life, I feel like I am starting to gain some insight nonetheless. For instance, the slow migration through first and second trimesters brought about an on-slaught of changes to my body and mind, and I had read about all of the aches and discomforts of third trimester. But what I am only now beginning to realize is that these aches and discomforts are merely a slow continuum, a gentle slippery slope into "the expulsion of the fetus" (as my Medical Physiology textbook would say).
Maybe labour begins weeks before labour, if you know what I mean. Labour probably began with my first sciatic nerve spasm which indicated the baby was migrating in the southerly direction. Labour was beginning when my back began aching or my kicks became pinchy, painful episodes during which I couldn't walk completely upright. Labour was beginning the moment I filled my first hot water bottle for some relief. And this morning, when I found for the first time in at least nine months that I could hardly bring myself to eat the food on my plate because of the awful nausea and general PMS-y achiness in my body, that was the beginning too. But this beginning feels nowhere near the actual conclusion. I haven't even felt the need to stop planning events to fill my agenda for the next week.
Contrary to what tv sitcoms will show (or what the beloved Dr. Huxtable would have you believe), maybe a woman doesn't just immediately clutch her abdomen in an instant of sudden shock and declare her baby "done". Maybe instead, women get tiny samplings of the contractatory episodes for days or weeks and then finally the uterus has had enough; hormone levels and uterine stretch receptors peak above a threshold and a positive feedback loop becomes irreversibly triggered. That moment has yet to arrive for me, and I'm sure that the shock of that is something unmistakable.
When I experience it, as is my usual style, you can be sure you'll get to read about it. Until then, I'll be here slip-sliding closer and then farther then closer to the big blast-off day.
Pregnancy is a continuum.
People like to neatly categorize animals and behaviours and stages of life into perfectly distinct categories, but I am beginning to think that none exist. First trimester, Week 16, "the first kick", the on-set of morning sickness, pre-labour and then real-labour.
Bearing in mind that I am NOT yet experienced in all facets of the "being pregnant" then the "no longer being pregnant" phases of life, I feel like I am starting to gain some insight nonetheless. For instance, the slow migration through first and second trimesters brought about an on-slaught of changes to my body and mind, and I had read about all of the aches and discomforts of third trimester. But what I am only now beginning to realize is that these aches and discomforts are merely a slow continuum, a gentle slippery slope into "the expulsion of the fetus" (as my Medical Physiology textbook would say).
Maybe labour begins weeks before labour, if you know what I mean. Labour probably began with my first sciatic nerve spasm which indicated the baby was migrating in the southerly direction. Labour was beginning when my back began aching or my kicks became pinchy, painful episodes during which I couldn't walk completely upright. Labour was beginning the moment I filled my first hot water bottle for some relief. And this morning, when I found for the first time in at least nine months that I could hardly bring myself to eat the food on my plate because of the awful nausea and general PMS-y achiness in my body, that was the beginning too. But this beginning feels nowhere near the actual conclusion. I haven't even felt the need to stop planning events to fill my agenda for the next week.
Contrary to what tv sitcoms will show (or what the beloved Dr. Huxtable would have you believe), maybe a woman doesn't just immediately clutch her abdomen in an instant of sudden shock and declare her baby "done". Maybe instead, women get tiny samplings of the contractatory episodes for days or weeks and then finally the uterus has had enough; hormone levels and uterine stretch receptors peak above a threshold and a positive feedback loop becomes irreversibly triggered. That moment has yet to arrive for me, and I'm sure that the shock of that is something unmistakable.
When I experience it, as is my usual style, you can be sure you'll get to read about it. Until then, I'll be here slip-sliding closer and then farther then closer to the big blast-off day.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Halloween
C-dawg came over to give out chips with me for Halloween. And we watched Shaun of the Dead. I own the movie but I'd forgotten how genius it is.
Surprisingly, we didn't have many trick-or-treaters at the door. The first wave arrived, a group of four and a group of three youngsters. I brought the box of chips to the door in one hand and served them out with my other. I decided to give out two bags per child since it was already late in the evening and I wasn't anticipating a good showing. One little girl looked up at me with wide eyes and exclaimed "TWO?!!"
"Yes," I said, "Is that alright?"
She nodded vigorously.
I was marvelling and laughing with Carolyn at how the really tiny kids just say whatever crosses their minds.
Then we looked down at the open box of chips and noticed something strange amidst the yellow chip bags.....a Kinder Egg....SURPRISE!
"Does Life brand make Kinder eggs?" I asked, wondering about a factory mix-up. Carolyn thought no.
"Did a kid slip us that egg?" I asked.
"But I don't think any kid got their hands in the box at all?" Carolyn puzzled with me.
We shrugged and laughed and eagerly opened the next box just to see if we'd find something hidden in it as well. We just found chips.
Then another wave of teensy trick-or-treaters arrived. I took the first box of chips to the door again and began dishing out the chips. Then one straggling zebra came running up the walkway behind her friends. I handed her a bag of chips and reached to give her the second bag when she saw the Kinder Egg.
"Egg!" she said.
"Uh" I wasn't sure what she was talking about. I pushed the second bag of chips into her tightly clutched halloween loot bag, expecting the same overflooding of gratitude that the little monster from before had shown.
"Egg! Egg! I want the egg," she pointed into the box at the Kinder Surprise and furrowed her brow. I panicked. All the other trick-or-treaters were waiting and I was afraid if I gave her the egg, they'd all want an egg. I just wasn't equipped.
"Uh sorry....." I thought quickly, looking back at my friend behind me, "The egg is for Carolyn."
And I shut the door.
C-dawg came over to give out chips with me for Halloween. And we watched Shaun of the Dead. I own the movie but I'd forgotten how genius it is.
Surprisingly, we didn't have many trick-or-treaters at the door. The first wave arrived, a group of four and a group of three youngsters. I brought the box of chips to the door in one hand and served them out with my other. I decided to give out two bags per child since it was already late in the evening and I wasn't anticipating a good showing. One little girl looked up at me with wide eyes and exclaimed "TWO?!!"
"Yes," I said, "Is that alright?"
She nodded vigorously.
I was marvelling and laughing with Carolyn at how the really tiny kids just say whatever crosses their minds.
Then we looked down at the open box of chips and noticed something strange amidst the yellow chip bags.....a Kinder Egg....SURPRISE!
"Does Life brand make Kinder eggs?" I asked, wondering about a factory mix-up. Carolyn thought no.
"Did a kid slip us that egg?" I asked.
"But I don't think any kid got their hands in the box at all?" Carolyn puzzled with me.
We shrugged and laughed and eagerly opened the next box just to see if we'd find something hidden in it as well. We just found chips.
Then another wave of teensy trick-or-treaters arrived. I took the first box of chips to the door again and began dishing out the chips. Then one straggling zebra came running up the walkway behind her friends. I handed her a bag of chips and reached to give her the second bag when she saw the Kinder Egg.
"Egg!" she said.
"Uh" I wasn't sure what she was talking about. I pushed the second bag of chips into her tightly clutched halloween loot bag, expecting the same overflooding of gratitude that the little monster from before had shown.
"Egg! Egg! I want the egg," she pointed into the box at the Kinder Surprise and furrowed her brow. I panicked. All the other trick-or-treaters were waiting and I was afraid if I gave her the egg, they'd all want an egg. I just wasn't equipped.
"Uh sorry....." I thought quickly, looking back at my friend behind me, "The egg is for Carolyn."
And I shut the door.
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