Yesterday I was making oatmeal for breakfast. The house was all quiet, as the kids hadn't gotten up yet. I wanted a banana for my oatmeal but didn't have any fresh ones. Just as I located one in the back of the freezer, I heard the front screen door open and some random scratching around noises. I sneaked across the kitchen with the only weapon I had in my hand: a frozen banana. I quietly tested it by bonking myself on the head with it. Yes, I think I could injure an intruder with this. I peeked around the corner and saw...a bottle of peach lemonade. And my friend pulling out of the driveway. I lowered the banana.
The night before had been bananagrams night. Once a month I play bananagrams with three good friends, affectionately known as the bananagirls. One of them had brought peach lemonade for everyone. I had to leave early (and in a rush), so I inadvertently left mine at this friend's house. After I realized that she was just delivering it to my porch, we exchanged a few texts about how ironic it would have been if I had assaulted one of my bananagirls with, of all things, a frozen banana. I told the kids the story and read them the texts when they got up, and we all laughed about it.
This morning, Sarah and I are home alone, sitting at the desk doing math. All is quiet. We hear a bang in the garage, and Sarah whispers, "Mom! Grab the frozen banana!"