Big Child asked for tortilla chips and salsa. I reminded him that tortilla chips are on the orthodontist's list of banned foods.
Little Child asked why the Democrats didn't filibuster. I started to go into how filibustering isn't permitted for cabinet app--
Big Child asked if we had any corn tortillas. I suggested he look in the fridge.
Middle Child asked if any Republicans had voted against DeVos. I said that two had, as well as two Independents.
Big Child appeared, tortillas in-hand, and asked for salsa. I reminded him that raw corn tortillas are disgusting and I was attempting to hold a conversation so if he could not wait he was welcome to read the instructions on the bag and cook himself some tortillas.
"So that would make it a tie," said Middle Child.
Big Child interrupted to say that the instructions involved a pan and asked if he could just put the tortillas in the toaster oven. I said disregarding manufacturer instructions is generally a bad idea, then reminded Middly that in the event of a tied vote in the Senate, the Vice President breaks the tie.
I continued to explain that Special Education will most likely be affected,--
Big Child asked if he could put a test tortilla in the toaster oven. I said no.
Little Child asked if Ms. DeVos had really bad ideas or just ones I didn't like.
Big Child came up to me, tortillas in-hand, and I shrieked at Hotter to please take over the management of the tortilla crisis and told the other two children that Ms. DeVos had essentially bought her position, and wanted to put guns in schools in case of grizzly attacks.
Little Child said "no, really, I'm seriously asking," and I said that unfortunately I wasn't kidding, that that was an actual thing she had said.
Middle Child said "well but most politicians lie, so maybe it won't be so bad, and at least President Trump is a man of his word." I asked him what made him say that. "He said he would put America first and he already did by saying 'screw the Indians' and going ahead with the pipeline because America needs oil!" I took a deep breath, and I'm not sure whether I was trying to calm down or getting ready to turn the air blue because I started to choke.
"WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?" screamed Little Child. I turned to see smoke pouring out of the toaster oven, opened it, and flames shot out. Dimly outlined through the conflagration I spied the stack of corn tortillas, still inside their bubbling plastic wrapper, and slammed it shut again.
"OPEN THE FRONT DOOR!" I screamed. Everyone just stood there. I yanked the toaster oven's cord out of the wall, grabbed a towel to throw over it, snatched it up, kicked the front door open, and set the burning toaster oven on the lawn.
When I came back inside everyone was still standing there. I threw the singed towel down, looked up at Big Child (he is now over six feet) in furious disbelief, and said "CHOOSE. ANOTHER. SNACK." Hotter volunteered that he had cracked and said okay to a test-tortilla. Big Child said he'd eaten tortilla chips in his braces before and it went okay. I picked up a protein bar, handed it to him, and said "I love you very much, and I need you to take this and go in your room RIGHT NOW." And then I chewed a Xanax.
Day One of DeVos as Secretary of Education: everyone around me is already dumber than they were yesterday.
Also? Now we need a new toaster oven.
Sent from The Precious