Pre-Thanksgiving Disaster

Well, we got our oven disaster out of the way early.

Daddy P woke up with a screaming baby this morning around 6am. Gotta love gas pains. Daddy P has now X'd off my food list: caffeine, heavy milk and cream, and coffee.

But, the story... He got her fed and changed, but she just wouldn't calm down much. He decided since she was up, he was going to make the sticky buns our lovely friend Vicki sent over. He set the oven to PreHeat, and let it go. The baby finally falls asleep and is put in her crib. Moments later, the smoke alarm goes off. It does this frequently for little things like heat, rather than smoke or fire, so Daddy P's response was to bat it off the ceiling. As he was doing this (in the name of letting is wife sleep a little longer) he noticed there was indeed smoke coming out of the oven! Yet, nothing was in it. He turns the oven off and opens all the windows. After the smoke clears, he decides the coast is clear to try again. Switching the oven on to "bake" nothing happens. He is estatic: sticky buns ARE in his future! He grabs the plate of buns from the freezer and... drops it. Shatters. Everywhere.

Just as Daddy P cleans up the glass, I wake up with a start to the smell of smoke. I run downstairs in a panic, to find Daddy P bouncing a baby Kate on the couch next to the open back door (both of them in a daze). The smoke is still too thick for little lungs, so we quickly open all the windows, turn on the fan, and bundle up the baby. We then head to Dunkin Donuts to grab some coffee and try to wake up enough to plan next steps.

Now, safely at the grandparents' house, with our home airing out, we can look back and laugh. Well, I can. Daddy P is still mourning his sticky buns...