The One with the Stolen Oatmeal

Dear Sean,
This morning I got up bright and early, I made myself a nice hot steaming bowl of oatmeal (Maple and Brown Sugar for those who are curious) and then I left it for a few minutes, partly to allow it to thicken a bit and partly because I had to send off a lovely email to my Hubby to let him know about my dinner plans.
So imagine my surprise when I returned to the kitchen to find my bowl of oatmeal missing, I was baffled.  Then I turned around and saw you sitting on the sofa, spooning mouthful after mouthful of oatmeal into your mouth.
The only thing is that you hadn’t actually put the kettle on and made your own bowl, which means that you, my darling boy, the one that I laboured for 16 and a half hours to bring into this world, the same boy that I’ve struggled and fought with to help you grow into a fine young man, you  STOLE your mother’s oatmeal.
Where did I go wrong?


About katastrophes1

Kat is a 20 something girl stuck in a 40 something body. Mom to 3 kids, tormented and amused by 3 crazy dogs. Amateur photographer, self taught crochet junkie. Thinker of crazy thoughts. Where do they come from? Who knows where thoughts occur, they just happen!
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2 Responses to The One with the Stolen Oatmeal

  1. Jenn says:

    >That is SO typical, haha. My brother used to pull that crap all the time – even on me. I made a sandwich once, went to grab a drink, and when I came back in he had it half eaten! Boys! hahaha

  2. Kat says:

    >I don't think my brothers ever pulled that with me, of course our tastes were totally different so maybe it's just because they never liked what I made. 😀

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