Flat Tea

This was my Facebook status this morning:

It’s maybe a sign of a rough start to my day when I pour tea into the iron instead of water.

You see, I have a bad habit of assuming that any random cup of liquid I come across is 1) full of water and 2) available for my use. The first time this assumption bit me, we were visiting my mom. The kids were in bed (thankfully) and the adults were sitting in the living room. I was in the kitchen, in sight of the other adults, when I saw a cup of water on the counter and decided to drink it.

They all looked up to see me spitting rapidly and frantically into the sink, then desperately washing my mouth out.

“Did you just drink that?!” asked my husband, sounding shocked.

“Yes! I didn’t know it was bleach!”

“Really?!” he laughed. “I could smell it from here!”

This second and most recent event, I played to a smaller audience. As Daryl sat quietly eating his breakfast, I prepared to iron a shirt for Jane. Since it was cotton, I decided to add water to the steamer. There was a cup with a small amount of water on the table.

But as I poured the water into the iron, I noticed it was a very light brown. Oh, no I thought. So I sipped it. Yep. Jane drank tea for dinner last night, not water.

I quickly unplugged the iron, poured the tea into the sink, and rinsed it out a few times. When I plugged it back in, it let off a bit of smoke.

“Keep an eye on that thing and holler at me if it does anything dangerous,” I told Daryl, who looked up at the iron, stared for a minute, and then nodded. I wondered what he thought of the request.

I left the room to verify with Jane that this shirt still fit her. She insisted it did. But when she came in a few minutes later to see me clearly fulfilling her request to iron it, she said, “Oh! I don’t need you to iron that. I decided to wear a different shirt.” Really. And my question about the shirt didn’t clue you in? No.

As the rest of the family left for school, Hal settled in to eat his breakfast while I prepared to take my shower. I was feeling a bit hyper. I had run on the treadmill while watching a hilarious episode of Firefly, and then had the great tea-in-the-iron drama. I was up for a bit of silliness.

So as I locked the door, I looked at him and said dramatically, “Ok, look. I’m going to take a shower. Don’t touch that,” I pointed to the iron. “Don’t unlock the door. Don’t go outside. Don’t do anything that will get you hurt, maimed, or killed. Got it?”

I had spread my arms out wide in a grand expression as I finished my little monologue. He slowly swallowed the cereal in his mouth and said, “Ok. How about I just play with my train table?” That’s what I love about that kid. Sometimes he can be so dry.