CrankyCakes

Oh, I’m a CrankyCheryl indeed.

Have you read Mo Willem’s Leonardo the Terrible Monster?  You know the part where he “scares the tuna salad” out of poor Sam?  And Sam launches into the tirade about how he’s not crying because he was scared, but because his mean big brother stole his action figure and broke it on purpose and he stubbed the same toe he hurt when he was in the bathtub trying to wash out the bird poop that his brother’s cockatoo pooped on his head and his tummy hurts?

Well, that’s me if you’ll substitute, “leak in bathtub necessitating complete bathroom demolition,” “insurance claims adjusters not returning phone calls,” “unemployed,” “sleep-deprived,” “humidity-hating,” “why is there always dirt sticking to my feet when I sweep the @#$^%$ house twice a day,” and “broken camera because I stupidly let kids take pictures with it.”  And probably at least one or two other things I’m too annoyed to remember.

Grrr.

But this happened today:  we were sitting in the gym lobby having our picnic lunch after swimming (i.e. “getting clean without a bathtub”) today, and E. held up the crust of the bread he was nibbling (Klinger’s Maple Oat Walnut – yum) and said, “Look Mommy:  Crust Fries!”

My jaw dropped.  My boy has solved a problem older than sliced bread.  Holy cockatoo poop.  What do you do with the crusts they won’t eat?  Make oven fries with them!  Yah, dude.

Here’s how: Cut the crusts off before germs get all over them as your little darlings pick and prod and slobber their way through their sandwiches.  Toss the crusts with a little bit of oil on a pan, and put it in your toaster oven.  Toast them.  Serve them with mustard and ketchup and whatever meshuga stuff your kids like to dip things in.

And for heaven’s sake, please wait until at least next week to tell me if this idea is not new.  I just couldn’t take it.