hot food

so i should have written more while i was home for break

but with critic in the hospital all during break
and wanting to spend all the time with my family
i could, i didn't feel like it

critic is my father's mother
critic because she's always critical about everyone
and her husband will be called scrambler
because he loves to speak in his own language
that i can't speak, i can barely decipher it

so let's get to the story
on my first sunday home i convinced my mother
to have the missionaries over for dinner on that thursday
she was cool with that

so the missionaries show up
we put the food on the temple
and right before we said the prayer
mom brought out a dish that had just been in the oven
and said "it's hot, please be careful. it just came out of the oven."

we say the prayer
we dish up some food
and she shovels in some of that very dish
and then...
"[MOM]! this is hot!

[well no shit sherlock! excuse my french, sorry.
she said my mom's name but i'm keeping people anonymous]

the missionaries just sat there,
they didn't know what to do
i felt so bad for them

but it gets worse
either the next night, or the night after
dad made fish and something else
he pulls it out of the oven
and says it's hot, blah, blah, blah

we say the prayer and BAMB!
"[DAD]! this is hot!"
did you not learn your lesson last time?

oh the things they say