The Loaf That Broke The Camel’s Back

Before we begin, it has come to my attention that people choke while eating and reading this blog. In my opinion, this post is funny. Please put down any food and or beverages before reading. (Loretta, this means you)

So, last Sunday, I was in the Primary, substitute teaching for another teacher who was out of town. I’m actually there a lot, subbing, because as a former Primary teacher, I know how hard it is to get a substitute. As much as people profess to love children, it’s interesting to watch them squirm when they are asked to spend Actual Time with said children. (definately a post idea for another day)

So, there I was. I have three children currently who attend Primary. One of them is Dan, who is 11. He sits through church with no problems, acting appropriately and falling asleep during the slow parts. Another one is Nick. Nick is 5 and has some trouble remaining in a chair for more than 15 min at a time, and also likes to repeat what people say. We’re hoping it’s a phase. The last one is Tim. Well, we all know Tim. He is what he is. He has a helper. A woman (friend and neighbor) who is there to help Timothy be happy. She brings a bag of random kitchen utensils for him to play with, and takes him for walks as necessary.

Sheesh! I’m having some trouble getting to the point today….

After watching Nick and Tim’s teachers help/wrestle their way through Sharing and Singing time, it occurred to me that maybe they deserved a little more than the blessings of heaven bestowed on those who voluntarily care for children. I determined that Banana Bread was the way to go.

By Thursday, I was ready to make the bread. I made 3 loaves, one for each of the women on my mind. Two in Tim’s class, and one in Nick’s. After the bread cooled, my plan was to bag it, write a note, and deliver the goods.

But…a snag.

Tim had attacked the last loaf, eating a large corner. I was bugged, but could blame only myself. (must have left kitchen gate open)  On Friday, I wanted to make more bread, but was out of several ingredients. Blair made a quick trip to the store and I made 3 more loaves.

Here’s where it gets tricky.

The loaves were baking nicely and I headed  outside with the little kids. Tim was napping in his room with the door shut, but I locked the gate anyway. Better safe than sorry. When the timer rang, Jessica called out a window to me. I said, “Take them out and I’ll be in a bit to take them out of the pan.” After about 10 minutes we went in to take care of the bread.

WE WERE TOO LATE.

Jessica had left the kitchen gate open! Tim had been let out of his room! Loaves were destroyed! ALL THREE. Big chunks missing, crumbs everywhere, Tim is happily eating large pieces in the middle of the kitchen in a pile of banana bread debris.

HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO GIVE TREATS TO PEOPLE WHO HELP TIM IF TIM KEEPS EATING ALL THE TREATS?????

I was a little upset. I hate feeling ‘stopped’. When it seems like there are more barriers popping up than you can manage. When it seems like instead of moving forward, all you do is remove road blocks. I hate that.

I had a mini-fit. Then, I felt my eyes narrow, my spine stiffen, and I thought, “I will make the D*%$ banana bread come Hell or High Water.”

(if you can even believe this, later, a daycare mom showed up to get her kids, and the oldest one of them a six year old girl, came out of the kitchen with a 3 inch thick slab of banana bread she had cut herself with a gigantic bread knife she also helped herself to out of the knife drawer. I was UNHAPPY)

I believe I may have popped a couple of unimportant (I hope) blood vessels in my head.

Saturday, I made more bread, after Tim was in bed. Blair and I threw those loaves into bags, tossed them into the Jeep and drove them straight to people’s houses. At 9:30pm.  I didn’t want to take any chances.

So, Thank you. To all of you who care for children, and treat mine well. And thanks to those of you who treat Timothy well. He may be hell on banana bread, but I love him:)

p.s.**I will NOT be bringing any of you Banana Bread.**