Sunday, December 18, 2011 a burnt waffle

Once in a while, the kids entertain themselves in the morning since they typically wake up before chickens. Brady has started climbing on the couch with the iPad.

I am truly grateful for those mornings because he usually climbs into bed with me and I, in my groggy sleep-induced coma, pull him into bed not realizing that I've just invited a sweaty little wiggle worm into bed with me.

So, on those mornings when Kennedy and Brady wake up at the same time -- she can turn on the TV and Chris and I get a few more minutes of sleep, which seems to more and more precious this time of year.

On a particular morning last weekend, Kennedy tip-toed into our room and was quietly sniffling as if something had upset her. This isn't out of the ordinary since the kids are getting along SO WELL these days. (insert sarcastic tone here). So when I asked what was wrong, she quickly mumbled some words that sounded more like a high pitched animal was squealing. After she finally calmed down, she said she broke a plate. A plate?! I didn't hear a plate fall and break. She further explained that she tried to make us waffles in the microwave. Then, the smell hit me. Burnt plastic.

Afraid there might have been a fire in the house, I leapt out of bed and ran into the kitchen. No fire. Just a horrific smell. And this......

This is what it looked like from the bottom. Yikes.

What we finally learned was that Kennedy had turned the waffles on HIGH for FIVE minutes. She had also poured cereal with milk and gotten both of us string cheese. How on earth could we possibly be upset over something minor (burnt plate and really, really awful smell) when she had done something so selfless? She gives of herself constantly. And wholly. It's the most wonderful trait my sweet girl has.

Oh -- and that smell? It lasted for three days. The whole family smelled like we had survived a house fire. :)

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