I was listening to Christmas music on the radio and making oatmeal this morning. I got out a pan and put in some apple chunks, raisins, wheat germ, and of course, oats. Then a great song by the Trans Siberian Orchestra came on, so I cranked it up while getting out the brown sugar. I held the bag over the pan and intended to sprinkle in about a tablespoon of sugar, but the music was coming to an exciting crescendo, and I admit I was bopping along like a dork. Unfortunately, there was also a big clump of brown sugar in the bag, and I'm sure you can figure out where this is going.
An obscene amount of sugar tumbled into the pan. I watched helplessly as it sank into the oatmeal before I could snatch it back. I stared at it for awhile and then decided I was just going to have to serve it, because I didn't want to waste all those good ingredients. I served up three steaming bowls of sugarmeal and called the unsuspecting kids.
Noah, expecting my usual health-ridden oatmeal, grumbled about not being hungry. Sarah was too busy shoveling it in her mouth to say anything. Noah took one bite, his face lit up, and I didn't hear from him again until his bowl was scraped clean. Then he said, "Mom! That was the best oatmeal I've ever had! Bobby Flay couldn't even make oatmeal that good!"
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