I promise I didn’t destroy the kitchen.

Once upon a time (actually yesterday), C and I were bored at home. We made granola.
The end.

Okay, okay! You want to know the rest of the story? Okay, sit quietly and I’ll tell you the rest of the story. So what happened was that we were at home and C was hanging around, bored.
“Why don’t we make granola?” She suggested hopefully. Inwardly and outwardly, I groaned. Most times I cook/bake/craft something with her, it ends up taking twice as long as I thought it would. And also twice as disorganized. But I, trying to be a great big sister, agreed. “Okay. Why don’t you cut up the almonds first?”
“Yay!” She squealed and ran to do my bidding. (Hee hee — by the way, cutting almonds is the longest part;) In about half an hour, we had conjured up a bowl of granola that was four times what the recipe called for. Hey, we I eat a lot, okay? So we, being two happy girls, gleefully popped three pans of granola into the oven. Proudly, I closed the oven door. “Three whole pans of granola!”
C sighed in satisfaction. “We could start a bakery,” she imagined.
“Yeah, right. Come on, let’s go play.”
I set the timer for 25 minutes, and we scampered off to play outside in the beautiful weather. In the middle of a soccer skirmish, C stopped and sniffed the air.
“Wait, do you smell that? It smells like something’s burning.” I gulped as I, too, smelled the same burnt smell wafting through the air. In one instant, I realized what happened.
“HURRY!” I screamed, running toward the door and flinging my body inside. Faster than the speed of light, I flashed into the kitchen opened the oven door and yanked out the three trays.
“Oh. Oh, no no no no!!!!”
“It’s BURNT!” shrieked C. Cautiously I looked closer. This was the first batch of granola that I’ve ever made that turned to complete charcoal. Thankfully, not the whole pan was burnt. So it was my task (I wonder why) to tediously pick out the granola-now-charcoal pieces from the pan.   
“Yeah,” I muttered. “We can totally start a bakery.”
Don’t worry! It still tasted good! ;)

Moral: Don’t count your chickens before the eggs hatch. Or in this case, don’t count your pans of granola before they potentially burn.

THE END.

That Girl Over There ~ and tell me in the comments if something like this has ever happened to you!

  

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6 thoughts on “I promise I didn’t destroy the kitchen.

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