Monday morning. We're on our way out the door to take Kayla to school when I notice the little one's hearing aids are missing. I ask her where they are and she points to the kitchen. Milestone alert (that only parents of deaf kids care about): she's recently mastered the glorious ability of being able to point out where she has hidden or hurled them. Of great benefit to me 99.9% of the time. This day, not so much.
I smell them before I see them (never a good sign), turn the corner and find them in all their glory. INSIDE the microwave, one sparkly pink flame ball rotating ever so gracefully on the glass tray; the other, about to spontaneously combust in the far left corner. Yes, our darling daughter cooked her "ears."
Last night, Dave asked her where they were and she said "Broken! Hot!" She's lucky she is cute. And that we bought the insurance.
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