The Day The Eggs Made Me Smile

I was having a bad moment - an I'm-not-so-proud-of-me spell that I wish I could legitimately blame on the pancakes.  But, you know, they're pancakes.  How can those fluffy-ish, albeit slightly over brown, wonky-shaped yummy things be to blame?

Well, I know they can't, but there is an uncanny strangeness with me + making pancakes.  I don't feel good at it, & somehow these seemingly "easy" breakfast {or, in this particular case, dinner} treats stress me like no other.  Every time I offer to stir up a batch 'cause my husband loves them & I want to see that smile {you know, the pancake smile}, I pretty much instantly start an inward monologue that goes something like this... "Why?!  Oh why did I just say that?!" {Also, overly dramatic music plays in the scene in my head & I kneel in despair in a puddle of Aunt Jemima's maple syrup - okay, maybe not that extreme, but I thought it makes for an interesting image.  P.S.: It's pretty close, though.}  I digress.

On this particular day, the pancake prep panic paired with some other bugging things was making me pretty rough around the edges. {I am being kind.  I was mildly upset/testy.} {To do list: alliteration ✔!}  My foul mood drifted in like the smell of burnt pancakes to where my husband was.  I'm sorry, Dan.  So very sorry, my love. 

He could of reacted in a million ways... gotten mad, fallen victim to the contagious factor of bad attitudes, pretended he couldn't hear me & my mumbles & complaints...  Instead, he draws on the eggs.  He takes out a Sharpie & with a few little motions, he's made a smiley face & a heart, & he stashes them back into the fridge.  It is to be noted that I was out of the kitchen when this happened - totally unaware of any goings-on.  And he waits patiently for me to reenter & get finished with my pancake arch nemesis & onto the eggs, all the while, quiet & oh-so-patient in his chair. {Gosh, I love my man!}

I finish the pancakes with mumbles like the Israelites in the wilderness {I asked for forgiveness from my Maker for this}, & I move to get the eggs.  I open the carton.  I smile.  It takes a moment, but I do.  I just can't help it.

You know what else?  That carton had a Bible verse printed on it!  Crazy, right, how God speaks through Sharpies, & patient loving husbands, & egg cartons.  It was eggs-actly what I needed & I am so thankful.

P.S.: I hope that last part gave you the pun smile, Dan.  It kinda reminds me of the pancake smile, but this one has a little higher-reaching grin action going on.