I love when either one of my kids is in town. But something else comes with the territory whenever they come home. They morph into the kitchen police.
Alli walks in the door and immediately checks the expiration date stamped on every item in the refrigerator. As if I’m planning to poison her. (Okay, I admit she’s sleuthed down a few jars dated before she was born….)
Daniel heads right for the refrigerator, too. Not only to eat. He inspects it just like Alli. Only he’s more into nutrition and organization and waste. And he runs a tight ship.
This is a tough area. V does most of the shopping. Both of us are guilty of buying more than we use. Plus I’m still on probation from the last refrigerator incident.
So this time, I revisited the scene of the crime before Daniel got home. I checked each item so the refrigerator would pass muster. Everything was healthy, organic and fresh– on its proper shelf, assigned and labelled by Daniel.
I was really proud of our refrigerator. And after picking Daniel up at the airport I went to sleep with a clear conscience.
Who knew Daniel would broaden the crime zone to the pantry?
He was home less than 24 hours. I walk into the kitchen and find the police—and the paparazzi waiting. With the evidence right there on the counter.
I was so busted. I guess this is Daniel’s version of a police lineup.