Open mouth, insert food

"No, not Spanish Fly.  Spanish RICE."

Sometimes, a conversation is funnier imagined than heard.

My children are 13 (almost 14) and 10 now.  I had to attend a meeting tonight, and my husband texted me at the last possible minute that he had been delayed at work.  I had already made dinner, with the idea that my husband and the boys could just warm it up after they got home from work and swim practice, respectively.

With my husband delayed, I had to let the kids know that they'd be on their own after practice, and that they could just warm up the food and eat by themselves.  I left written instructions: taco meat 30 to 45 seconds, Spanish rice 30 seconds, taco shells 10 to 15 seconds, no aluminum foil, lids, or spoons. .

45 minutes or so into my meeting, my phone rang.  My 10-year-old's first words were "Mom, do you remember how you wrote no aluminum foil and no lids?"

"Oh no," I thought. "Yes, I remember.  What happened?"

"Nothing, but we wanted to make sure that we're supposed to keep the rice and the meat in the bowls."

My fellow PTA board members had to wait a few minutes for me to regain my composure.  After I caught my breath and wiped the tears away, I explained.   The funniest thing was not the idea that I'd just narrowly escaped having a microwave full of uncontained meat and rice, but imagining the several minutes of earnest discussion that had probably taken place just before they called me.  Are you sure we're supposed to use the bowl?  I mean it says no aluminum foil and no lids, but it doesn't say to keep the stuff in the bowls, right?  What should we do?  Should we just try it?  Maybe we should just eat it cold.  Hold on, we should call her.  You call her.  No, you call her.  OK, I'll call her.

Maybe more detailed instructions next time. Bon appetit.