Someone I know, ahem, who just happens to be seven months pregnant, told me this story the other day.
She’d made supper, mixing cheese in with meat, and announced to her family that supper was moments away. Just waiting for the cheese to melt.
Finally, the husband of my dear
sister friend checked the cheese package. It read something quite similar to this:
Chalk it up to pregnant brain. To three – and almost four – kids three and under. Or something.