Isabelle and I were reminiscing earlier today, which is kind of fun with her because she has a memory like mine. The two of us make an awfully good team. When we work together it's safe to assume we will remember every little detail of any major or minor occurrence.
Today we were discussing an event that I can not believe I haven't written about yet - the day I set the toaster on fire.
It was about 3 days after Gracie was born and I was getting the house ready for my sister who was coming to help out for a few days. I was feeling a little frazzled still adjusting to having a new baby at home and trying to make sure the house looked presentable.
I needed something quick to eat for breakfast. There was one package of pop-tarts that my brother-in-law had left when he watched the other kids while Eric and I were at the hospital. I figured that would be a super easy thing to fix for myself. I threw them in the toaster and went to switch around the laundry.
This toaster was not one of the new ones with built in safety features. In fact, it was the toaster Eric grew up with, so it was really, really old. (At least that's Isabelle's assessment.)
It says right on the box that you are not supposed to put pop-tarts in the toaster. Did you know that? I didn't until after the fact. I'd never had a problem with it before. I even knew enough to set the toaster to the lowest setting. What I failed to realize is that if old toasters don't pop up when they are supposed to, they'll keep toasting. And toasting and toasting...
Unfortunately, when the one doing the toasting is feeling scatter-brained and overwhelmed, this does not make for a good combination. I think you can probably guess where I'm going with this.
So I walked out of the laundry room and peeked into the kitchen and saw flames shooting out of the toaster. I froze and could not for the life of me think of what to do.
First instinct was to throw a pot lid over it to contain the flames. Um, okay. Then I looked for the fire extinguisher and didn't see it under the kitchen sink. Then, I actually did the first smart thing I'd done all morning and realized I should probably unplug the toaster. And then you know what I did, because I was in such sad shape? I called Eric.
I calmly said to him "Umm...the toaster is on fire and I'm not sure what to do."
He calmly replied, "Unplug it and throw water on it."
Now, why didn't I think of that? I managed to knock the pot lid off with out burning my hands and dumped a couple of glasses of water on it. It worked. I hung up the phone, decided I was just going to skip breakfast, threw the toaster in the backyard, and pretended like it was any other day.
But it's good to know Isabelle will never forget that moment!