We don’t eat much beef around here. Don’t get me wrong, we all love it, but I bought a roast the other day for the first time in years. Usually it’s ground beef only (or pork or chicken) in my food budget. I was craving beef though, so I bought a roast. When I got it home, I realized it was barely better than stew meat. So… stew it became. I was trimming and cutting away on it this afternoon when Charlotte walked in.
“Is that chicken really bloody or…?”
“It’s beef, honey.”
“Oh. Is that beef really bloody or why is it so red?”
Clearly we need to splurge a little more often. She had no idea that it’s supposed to be red.
The stew was delicious. 3lbs of meat, a pound of carrots, and two pounds of potatoes. A dozen and a half biscuits. Gone. Blaine’s not even home.
Elliot ate her biscuit first. She merely ate the stew to get another biscuit. After we’d prayed, she’d eaten her biscuit, and she was staring down her bowl of stew, she announced she needed to pray again. Her soup was still hot… So she needed to pray. Clearly we’re just killing time with the practice. We’ll work on the meaning of that one.
Stellan’s new bedroom just means less sleep for me. For the record.
I sent the kids outside this afternoon. One asked if she could take her book. I found her on a lawn chair curled up with a pillow and blanket the driveway. Another three kids were on the front porch with a stack of papers, crayons, and stencils. No energy was being spent beyond the bare minimum.
Clearly they just moved the operation outdoors. I lose.