Boy Egg

Boy Egg
Boy Egg

I almost chocked this morning when Boy said he’d made breakfast.  Of course being a bad Dad it was not the thought of him burning himself, spilling milk all over the kitchen or even blowing up the house with the gas.  No it was the thought that he would expect me to eat whatever he put in front of me.  “Thanks Boy” I muttered as he placed the egg with a giggle.  Yuck!  Blue egg!!  Turned out that Boy and Wife were dying eggs last night while I was hard at work on the class yearbook.

The things you miss when you leave them alone for 10 minutes.  It won’t happen again….  I’ve hidden the rest of the eggs at the back of the fridge.

Needless to say egg ended up where all bad eggs go…


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