Kallan watches with horrified eyes as I dump a large chunk of frozen chili into a pan and turn the burner to low, “That’s been in the freezer for like a million years! That’s dinosaur chili! We can’t eat that!”
I chop at the frozen chunk with a big metal spoon, “Think of me as a scientist, Kallan. A scientist who has unlocked the powers of reanimation. I’m going to practice on this prehistoric chili, and then later, if all goes according to plan? Triceratops!”
“Reanimation means bringing things back from the dead?”
I hack and chop and force the chili down into the pan, “Yes.”
Kallan makes gagging sounds and falls to the kitchen floor, whispering stage directions to herself as she goes down, “dramatic fall . . . frenzied rolling . . . cue gasping.”
“Get up, goofball. It won’t be that bad.”
She rolls and gasps and issues more whispered stage directions, “turn to the audience . . . eye contact with the front row . . . prepare for death throes.”
I step over her to retrieve the top to the pan and I cover the chili, “It will be yummy. You’ll see.”
Kallan twitches and convulses on the floor, and then whispers, “fade to black . . . and . . . scene!”
“Get up.”
She opens one eye, “You will need to use your powers of reanimation. Obviously. Do you not see the death?”
“Let me guess. You are hopeful these powers involve the application of cookies where you are concerned?”
She lies still and whispers, “That seems like a sensible plan.”
“Nope. I am making dinner and dinner is chili and you will just have to deal.”
Kallan stands up, “Then I will just die.”
“Fine with me, babe. Deal or die.”
“That’s harsh, Mom.” She lifts the top off of the pan and grimaces, “There is no way I can eat this.”
“Why don’t you imagine that you have been walking for days and days across a barren desert with only your camel for company? Dying of thirst and starvation . . . for the past four days you have eaten only two Skittles candies that you found in your pocket. The only thing you have had to drink is camel pee.”
“Why wouldn’t I just drink my own pee?”
“Because that would be disgusting. Duh.”
Kallan giggles and calls the Labrador over, “Come here, camel!”
Persie the Labrador happily trots into the kitchen and stands expectantly. Kallan gets a glass out of the cupboard and places it under the dog’s body. She works the dog’s tail as an imaginary crank to get the liquid flowing, “Thanks, camel! A delicious refreshing glass of warm pee! You’re a lifesaver!”
Maj walks into the room just as Kallan is finishing up the tail-cranking and thanking the camel for the pee. She stands for a moment as if she is going to ask for explanations, but then thinks better of it. Maj waves her hands in the air, turns around, and leaves the room, “Whatever this is? I want nothing to do with it!”
Kallan drinks ecstatically from the empty glass, tipping it over her head to catch the last imaginary drops.
I stir the chili, “So for four days, all you have had to drink is camel urine. The Skittles are just a faint echo of a sugar memory. You are starving and thirsty.”
Kallan stares at me.
I shield my eyes as though warding off the bright sunlight, “But what’s that off in the distance? It’s Mom! It’s Mom and she is cooking chili! You are saved!”
Kallan is dubious, “You have a stove in the middle of the desert?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I knew something like this might happen when I dropped you off in the middle of the Sahara, so I brought a stove to make you chili.”
“You’re the reason I’m in the middle of the desert without food or water?”
“As I recall, I gave you several warnings about your sassy attitude before I kicked you out of the car and left you by the sand dune.”
Kallan snorts with laughter.
I continue, “You approach Mom, and just as you are about to keel over and die, she hands you a bowl of piping hot chili. You eat ravenously and then . . . guess what?”
Kallan is suspicious, “What?”
“You are reanimated!”
Kallan looks at me, “Unless it was all a mirage. You in the desert cooking me chili sounds like a mirage.”
“But this chili is real! Lucky you!” I stir the chili and scoop up a small spoonful for Kallan to taste.
She eats the bite and considers, “Not bad for prehistoric chili.”
“Your Mom has defrosting skills, babe. Mad skills.”
Kallan’s eyes light up, “Oooooh . . . can I make lemonade to have with dinner? I can tell Maj it is camel pee and she will go crazy!”
“As fun as that sounds? We don’t have any lemonade mix.”
“Rats.”
“How about water with a tiny bit of yellow food coloring?”
Kallan jumps up and down happily, “That will be awesome!”
“So no whining at dinner about chili?”
“Promise.”
I reach into the freezer, “So you behave during tonight’s chili dinner, and I will make something you like better tomorrow.” I pull out some steaks, “I’ll just put these in the fridge to defrost.”
Kallan is delighted, “Yay! Triceratops!”
Hee hee!
i bet the yellow water went over fabulously at dinner!!!
snort…
Did you read the tags?
Kallan’s red glass of “camel blood” caused a bigger stir than the yellow “pee.”
By far.
Freaking Awesome, as always.
Awww . . . thank you!
and wow, neither of your first commenters said first, cause I was just awed by the awesomeness.
Hee hee!
How fabulous to have awed you with awesomeness!
Go me!
oh oh oh…
i am so doin the firstie strut right now!
and i even read the whole thing before commenting – including the tags!
i am all awesome and first over here!
Cathy -
YAY!
You are amazing.
But then, you are always amazing . . . no matter when you come.
What?
brandie…
you gotta make sure you’re first before claiming firsties!
giggle.
Sassy you!
I don’t think Brandi was actually claiming the first position, just remarking on the fact that the first commenters hadn’t made mention of their status.
But then of course, you did.
Snort!
I usually would try, but anytime I comment I can’t JUST say first, I just CAN’T so then by the time I ramble on and say everything I want to say, someone has beat me and my initial claim of “First” is already obsolete.
Snort!
You make me giggle.
Hahaha that is awesome. I love the yellow water bit. Great imaginations are freaking amazing!
Kim -
So much giggling as Kallan hand-cranked the dog’s tail to fill her glass with camel pee.
That girl is crazy.
So fabulous.
And crazy.
I really want to know how the “camel pee” went over.
And the triceratops sounds yummy.
You have so much fun.
Renee -
The camel pee was met with horror, but that horror was soon replaced by new horror.
Because as I mentioned in the tags, Kallan used some red food coloring to make herself an additional glass . . . of camel blood.
Hee hee!
love.
three years from now, this will be my life. but with boys… ;-)
Sam -
So much fun.
You are going to have so much fun.
Yay!
Hmm… how old WAS the chili? I just threw out some 16 month old frozen dinosaur chili. I didn’t dare.
Kallan has an amazing vocabulary, or am I just underestimating kids these days?
Erin -
Kallan sounds like all of her friends.
She so does.
Sassy and filled with words.
And the chili was about 4 months old.
Yummy.
Camel urine and camel blood. Yummy!
That is some good home cooking you are dishing out over there. hehe
Now I am wanting some Skittles too.
Tracie -
I have mad defrosting skills.
Plus, the other day?
I made shepherd’s pie.
I am practically a chef.
Wait?
You made the Shepherd’s pie and didn’t tell us?
How did that go over?
I mentioned it in later comments on the post that discussed Mark’s need of Tarragon.
It was yummy!
I had to make it . . . after Mark read that post, there was much mocking about my laziness.
Ahem.
That is something that you must share on twitter, woman!
I guess I need to make a habit of going back the next day and reading the comments after my own.
Snort!
Have not been feeling Twitter as much this last little stretch.
Twitter goes in phases for me.
I need a flirty man on there with whom to exchange sassy repartee.
Sigh.
I have used up all of my flirty men.
LOL! I love this! Did she behave during dinner?
Better yet did she survive your experiment?!
Both girls were lovely about the chili.
Maj because she likes chili, and Kallan because she got to serve camel pee.
And blood.
Sigh.
Maj was horrified but a better sport than I imagined she would be.
Yay!
Dinosaur chili- that is worth taking out a patent.
Already on it, babe.
Already on it.
What a beautiful family you’ve made, it makes me smile! I got a double dose today, hall-box giddiness this morning (hilarious) and I think your blog is destined to be my bedtime story. Thanks for the laughs! Mmmm, chili…
Chris -
Love a new reader who comes back and claims my stories as bed-time reading!
Thank you for that!
Funny story, although I struggle to see the improvement of camel pee over human pee. (Both are just sound totally gross to me).
And, reading between the lines a bit, I need to say it’s nice to know someone else that doesn’t use a microwave for cooking or defrosting. We don’t even have one.
Silly you.
Just a joke . . . I don’t even know if you could safely drink camel pee.
And since camels live in the desert, they probably don’t pee much, as they are storing their liquids as fat.
Hmmm.
As for the other?
We have a microwave, and I use it quite often.
But I hate defrosting things in it.
Especially meat.
Ick.
I made spaghetti the other day and ended up freezing the leftovers.
Wonder how long they will sit in the freezer?
Maybe long enough to become dinosaur spaghetti?
And Triceratops steak sounds all kinds of yummy! As long as there is steak sauce to go with it.
Hee hee!
Stasha -
Steak sauce is an abomination.
The end.
I know, I know.
You are not the first person to give me shit because I must have steak sauce with my steak.
It’s not completely necessary but for me I don’t feel like I’ve had a steak if I don’t have steak sauce.
And just for you?
I have had to correct my typos a billion times because I keep typing “streak sauce”.
Not sure what streak sauce is but it could be very interesting.
Heh.
Hee hee!
Streak sauce does sound intriguing!