In Case of Emergency, Break Something

You know what it's like getting back from a weekend away: you're (sortof) relaxed and happy(ish) of course, but you're also tired, and your bladder is setting a new Guinness record for capacity, and you have come to the conclusion that if you are ever forced to occupy the same cubic feet of car space as your family (*cough cough, kids*) EVER AGAIN - or at the very least, within the next year or ten - you may well lose your mind.

Within four seconds of pulling into the driveway, someone asks you what's for supper.

You might rant a little at this point, about - for instance - how you haven't even finished extricating all the Hot Wheels and mashed Easter candy from under the car seats, let alone had a frigging PEE or unpacked or Spray & Washed the chocolate stains off of every article of clothing that ever saw the interior of Grandma's house during Cadbury season. At some point during your rant, someone else will see you're in the vicinity of the kitchen and say, "Oh, good. I'm starved. What're you making?" and yet another someone will start climbing your legs and screaming, "Hungry and sirsty! Hungry and sirsty!"

You will think some really choice language at this point, but only a rather mild "Oh for Pete's sake!"- which, frankly, sometimes just doesn't fully express the scope of your discontent the way a good f-bomb would have, and now is one of those times - will actually cross your lips, and you will huff your discontented ass over to the fridge to see what you can rustle up for supper.

(Actually, you will do that special walk that parents do when a small child has latched onto their leg, which, frankly, sometimes just doesn't fully express the scope of your discontent the way a good huff would have. And now is one of those times.)

But anyways, you will lurch awkwardly over to the fridge, uttering gentle grievances all the while, and will find that your fridge contains precisely:

- one-half bag of green onions, slightly wilted.

Organic, yes; filling, no.

You will realize at this point two very important things about life:

1. Green onions are the most useless fucking vegetable on earth.
2. So THIS is how McDonald's stays in business.

With fifteen years still on the parenting clock, you will break the glass on your last remaining emergency ration of mental restraint. You and your bladder will get back in the car with your kids, in fact well within the decade, and hightail it for the nearest drive-thru.