Descent into the Wilderness

So The Maid is back with her family for a holiday for the next 18 days, and we are left to fend for ourselves. The last time this happened, back in December 2008, she returned to find us all thin and depressed in wrinkled clothes, with the fridge full of takeaway food and the laundry basket overflowing with dirty clothes. I did resolve at some point that this time would be different and that I would try to take charge of at least something. At least something. I don't know what that is. Perhaps I could take charge of emptying one of the wastepaper baskets. I could do that and do it well.

Woke up this morning early and determined to feed The Son with a huge bowl of oatmeal and get him ready for school. First thing I discovered was - there is no more milk in the fridge because I drank it all last night (who knew?). So I substituted the milk in the oatmeal with ... Greek yoghurt, then tried to mask the smell (oatmeal and Greek yoghurt combined smells amazingly like vomit) with cane sugar and peach syrup.

"That's not my breakfast, right" was the first thing The Son said when I walked out of the kitchen.

"It doesn't taste nice" was the second thing he said, after the first spoonful.

"I don't like this not nice-tasting breakfast" was the third thing he said, before he started to cry.

The Husband walked in on Weeping Son and I, just as I was getting the fourth (and last) spoonful in, substituted the whole thing for bacon and buttered toast of which less than half was consumed by the intended recipient. Sigh. We are so in for it.