How (Not) to be a Domestic Goddess

I get toast tonight as an after-dinner snack for the girls. With fresh, homemade peach jam on top. It was as fresh as it gets. E ate about four bites and then was done. I asked her what the problem was. "I don't want to eat this." "But you asked for it." "But I don't want to eat it. I'm afraid worms might start popping out of it."

Back story:

So a couple of years ago my sister came over and we decided to break out some apricot jam. When we opened the jam, said sister spied a small, well processed worm on the top of the jam. I've been a little leery of apricot jam since then, I must admit. I don't know if E can remember this at all, but she told me the whole story: "and then when Aunt opened the jam a worm came popping out." I assured her there was no popping of worms, just a little worm lying there calmly, waiting to be discarded. But she's not buying it.

The good news is, she remembers in her version of the story that AUNT made the worm-popping jam.

In my own defense, that is the ONLY jar of jam in about 20 years of jam-making that has EVER had a worm in it.

In other news, E asked me yesterday, "will I ever have to wear hoop skirts?" (Do you sometimes HAVE to let an alligator eat you?)

M and Tuey had checkups today. Shots for everyone. M tried soooooo very hard to be stoic. She bit her lip and held in her little tears as long as she could, but it all came bursting out. Tuey just screamed bloody murder. He weighs 19 lbs. -- 75th percentile for height, 3rd for weight, skinny little guy.

Yesterday M was the angel who came to Joseph Smith. She came and asked him, "How do I look, Joseph Smith?" I didn't know there were narcissistic angels in heaven.