My philosophy on life is the glass is always half full, or the bowl, in this case.
One morning, my 16 year old son slept through his alarm, setting off a chain of events in his wake.
He ate his bowl of cereal on the drive to school to avoid being late. When we arrived at the door of the school, he handed he bowl of leftover milk to me. End of story for him.
Most of the cereal was gone, but the bowl was still almost full to the top with milk. I knew then why I was buying 4 litres of milk a day.
I drove away, my van hurdling over the huge slanting speed bumps in the parking lot, and swaying from side to side like a ferryboat. I steadied the splashing bowl of milk in my lap, but my jeans felt like they had been soaked by freezing arctic waves.
I made a note to myself: stop home and change before going to the store to buy more milk.
Something brushed my leg, and suddenly I saw my dog Rocko’s head in my lap, licking the bowl of milk.
I raised the bowl and regained control of the steering wheel with the other hand as I didn’t want to see the explosion that would occur if Rocko had drank the bowl of Raisin Bran soaked milk.
My son was unhappy that I was blogging about this. He said: “I’m never going to do that again, or you’ll blog about it”.
Yahoo! Thank God for blogs! I bought smaller bowls and no longer do the daily milk run, and he’s been waking up with his alarm.
