A Childhood Kitchen

The smell of cookies -- no brownies-- wait! No, that’s the smell of cheese crisp making its way through the house! I think to myself, “Cheese Crisp for breakfast? What a country!” I thank my second family The Simpsons for that quote and scurry towards the kitchen table ready to be supped and nourished. My sister cracks the oven open to check on the tortilla of cheesy goodness. She decides the crisp is not yet ready. In any case, there’s milk to be poured! My eyes watch the liquid fill the glass, alas she never fills it to the top like mom does. I’d do it myself, but pouring milk requires finesse and height to reach the counter. I posses none of these skills. Being of no use to my sister, she shoos me away and I scamper to the kitchen table.
The smell! That cheesy smell! Just one bite, that’s all I need. I can’t take it anymore, my sister is obviously torturing me for some stupid big sister reason. So I devise a plan. Wait for her to leave and take one tiny nibble, no one would know! My eyes go shifty as I scout the kitchen for her. She’s left the room momentarily. This is my time to shine; I dart to the oven, pull the door open, reach into the stove for the cheese crisp, and… “Aaaaaaarghh!”
My plan was so foolproof, but I forgot the glove! These shortcomings only occur in my favorite cartoons, yet here I am screaming in agony over my now roasted hand. The pain is unbearable! Where is my sister, why isn’t she flying to my aid? This was her master plan all along. To lure me in the oven to be rid of me once and for all while she gets to become a spoiled only child!
I feel as if I’ll pass out from this pain , when after what seems like an eternity my sister finally arrives. I cling to her begging for any sort of help, an amputation will do at this point. She briskly walks me to the bathroom sink and runs my scorching hand under the cool water. I meekly ask, “Am I going to be able to keep this hand?” My sister gives out a small laugh and replies, “from the looks of it, I’d say so.” She then dries my burnt little finger and places a power rangers band-aid over it.
Finally we sat and enjoyed a shriveled up cheese crisp, like I always wanted.