You will notice that the papers I am handing back to you are not exactly like you handed them to me. No, I'm not talking about the notes I scribbled all over them, I'm talking about their "baked" texture. Yes, they were in my oven. Why? Well there's a story there...
On Friday we set off for a wedding. It was our first major trip as a family of four and the most substantial drive of the Weer One's short lifetime. It started out fine, really it did. But about two hours in we heard a horrible phrase from the back seat: "I think I have a burp and it's not coming."
By itself, innocuous, but accompanied by That Look and the throat gesticulations of a small child, there was only one possible result. Almost ironically, we were in the parking lot of an eating establishment where we planned to have lunch when the Wee One emptied the snack-filled contents of her stomach all over the place. Luckily we managed to contain the eruption in the blanket she had wrapped around her, but there was still a lot of clean up. Nothing like standing in front of a chain restaurant, rummaging through the back of your car with a shirtless child standing on the sidewalk.
And thus began the weekend.
The wedding was fine, but taking a 3.5 year old and a 9 week old to a weekend of events that start at their normal bedtimes makes for some interesting times. Mixing meltdowns with parents splitting their time between the helpless and the reckless means that we've had more relaxing weekends. And then having the whole family in one hotel room adds to the challenge.
Oh right, the hotel room. That brings us back to your papers.
The hotel was very nice and we enjoyed our stay... right up until my wife asked me on Sunday morning "What is THAT?". What I had amazingly not noticed until she pointed them out was roughly 20 bug bites up the side of my body. And not just any bites. Bed Bug Bites.
Hey bro, when are we going home?
Suddenly everything in the room was a potential Trojan Horse that was just waiting to go home with us and release it's occupants. Everything was bagged up for the journey home. The porch became the decontamination staging area and Nothing went into the house (including the clothes we were wearing, sorry neighbors) without either being thoroughly hand cleaned or brought directly to the washing machine for the sanitary setting (thank you Kenmore). Things were lost, things were burned and some things happened that we weren't proud of, but those damn things are not getting in our house.
But what to do with all of the class papers I took with me? Can't wash them, probably shouldn't burn them. Bake them.
So yes, your papers spent time in my oven. Think of it as a public service, since you will likely bring them back to your home as well.
Enjoy the crispness.