Poisonous Bacon

Every good moment you have in life should be enjoyed, appreciated, and relished. That much we've all been told time and time again ad nauseum. Its the good moments that sustain you through the bad, cause you to smile or chuckle like a crazy person while revisiting them in a boring checkout line or meeting, and they make life more than a just a shuffle from one job to the next; from one 'bill due' date to the next.

I'm blessed to have a job that makes me smile and laugh 1000 times more than causes me frustration or stress. I'm blessed to have friends that will inadvertantly call me for a chat when I'm just thinking to myself how bored or lonely I'm feeling at that moment. I'm blessed to have a family who are behind me no matter what, loving and supporting me. And I'm beyond blessed to serve my God who orchestrates it all so perfectly and lovingly.

That being said, let me tell you about my battle with poisonous bacon.

(Yes, you read that right.)

The Kids and I were playing in the kitchen playset one day a few weeks back, mixing odd "soups" together, having faux meals and snacks, and (in Brother's case) smacking siblings on the forehead with plastic spoons when he thought I wasn't looking.

Faux food

After a while, Buddy held up a plastic piece of bacon. "This is poisonous bacon, Devyn." He told me solemnly.

"Aw man..." I acknowledged seriously.

"Yeah." He nodded impressively, staring at the bacon in his hands. Suddenly, his head shot up, a mischievious glint in his eyes. "EAT IT!!" He yelled, grinning.

Not wanting to encourage ideas of murdering me, I gave the standard, "Um, no."

Before I knew what was happening, I was a few feet away, curled up in a ball on the floor as Buddy bounced on my back screeching, "Eat it!! Eat the poisonous bacon!! It tastes good, I promise!!" All while giggling and trying to shove the offending meat product up my left nostril.

"Babies! Help!" I called out to our two audience members.

Sissy grinned and continued to suck on her two fingers, content to observe. Brother stood up gallantly, dropping most of the toys in his hands. How cute! I thought to myself, He's coming to save me.

From that moment, I covered my head as the bacon in question made another attempt toward my face, and instead heard the quick pitter-patter of feet that meant my hero was coming. I felt rather than heard as Brother took a flying leap and launched himself onto my crumpled form alongside Buddy with a battle cry of "TACO-OOOOOO!!!"

Then, naturally joining on his big brother's side, Brother began beating me senseless with the toy taco clutched in his hand. While the bacon continued to stab at my mouth and nose. All to the sounds of children giggling mischieviously.

Who knew poisonous bacon could lead to such a fun afternoon?