This particular afternoon he heated up a chicken patty in the microwave and I started to defrost chicken in order to make chicken and rice for dinner.
Something you should know. My son loves sports. Seriously. Always has, always will.
So I walk in the other room and my son is plopped on the couch in front of the t.v. watching some sports channel. Guess what was on the coffee table right in front of him? Chicken.
No, not this kind of chicken..
The bag of chicken patties. That belong in the freezer. Because they're frozen.
So I lightly scolded him for not returning the bag to the freezer ("I was waiting for the commercial, Mom!") and then I walked all over the house trying to find my smoothie glass.
I had set it down somewhere to go do something and then forgot where I put it. So I walked all over the place looking for it.
I even looked in the bathroom because, well.....you never know. (In case you're wondering, it wasn't there.)
Then I walked back into the kitchen and discovered the bag of frozen chicken breasts still sitting out on the counter because I forgot to put them back in the freezer.
I'd say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.