As evidence that I need another brain in addition to that second set of hands, I packed a Tupperware filled with three raw (yes, as in uncooked) eggs in M's lunch last week.I can only imagine her teacher's confusion over the exotic preparation of the eggs ("Um, this is how we eat eggs in Thailand?").
My babysitter texted me early afternoon: "Did you know you packed M raw eggs for lunch?" What the fuck? What is the babysitter talking about and, more importantly, what in the hell is she smoking? Raw eggs? No way, no how would I give my child uncooked, disease-carrying food for lunch. Some other phantom, irresponsible, inept mother must have snuck into our kitchen after I finished preparing her lunch this morning and switched out the apples (peeled and sliced just the way she likes them, thank you very much)and replaced them with some raw-ass eggs.
Same plastic container. Peeled apples are white-ish. Eggs are for-sure, white. I switched our three remaining eggs out of the carton into a plastic container because the carton had torn.
Shit, shit, shit.
Poor M. She is now forever known as the weird kid who brings raw eggs to school for lunch (she didn't really eat them). Her teacher at least had the sense (someone's got to) to crack the eggs (all three of them) before letting M touch them. And, she had her turkey sandwich, which thankfully wasn't switched up for some raw ground beef or something.
My roommate in grad school used to call these moments, when it seems your brain has completely vacated the cavity right above your eyebrows, "head up ass" moments. I actually think my head was so far up my ass that it might have qualified as a head-in-stomach moment.
And, so I offer this as a mea culpa to my 4-year-old:
The fact that I packed you raw eggs for lunch doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means I'm a moron. You will have your moron moments too as a fully grown human being, and I promise that if you let me of the hook for this bad boy, I'll let you off the hook for yours.