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Rated: E · Other · Family · #1023712
A story about life with my kids and the constant battle fo the milk jug.
It was a night like any other night. The children slept peacefully in bed, unaware of the horror that was about to befall them. As morning came they rushed into the kitchen, and fixed themselves a bowl of chocolate puffs. Then, as they opened the refrigerator, the children shrieked in scared fits as they saw the devastation before them: the milk jug was empty.

Though many people are not aware of it, this scene is repeated in my household each day. My mild mannered children are being scarred for life by milk jugs that seem to, for no apparent reason, empty themselves. I too have suffered from this horrible affliction as I tried to make myself some corn flakes last week. Thank heavens I was able to get an appointment with a good therapist, or else I might still be lying on the floor in the fetal position screaming, “the milk is gone, the milk is gone”.

Though modern science has no explanation for it, we seem to have bought a house built on the “dairy fault”. No matter how much milk, cream, butter, or cheese I purchase, it always seems to slip into some crack in the earth, and be forever forgotten. Just last week I watched as 5 pounds of cheddar disappear without a trace.

I have called the local police, and they have combed my house from one end to the other with out turning up a single clue. As deputy Barney put it “It’s as if someone has a key to your house, and is only interested in your dairy case. If this spreads to the local convenience store, milk may hit $8 a gallon, if it hasn’t already. If I were you, I would move and possibly enter the Federal Milk Protection Program.”

No parent is ever prepared to deal with this sort of thing. My 5 year old recently told me that he lived in fear that there won’t be milk for his Captain Crunch with Crunchberries or cheese for his cheese toast tomorrow. I tried to be strong for him, but this has taken its toll on me. Fortunately, my 12 year old was able to distract him by pulling out Chutes and Ladders.

When will this stop? Where will it end? I just don’t have the answers. All we can do is hope that by changing houses we can eliminate this horrible affliction that the kids have come to call “No Moo Juice”.

Fortunately, my 9 year old has put all of this into perspective. He said that we need to be thankful that we have a home and a family, and that we should continue buying dairy products to show that we will not be defeated by this terrible problem. What a trooper he is. And you know, this has affected him most. Every morning, he wakes with a white moustache and covered in orange crumbs.

I guess that fault must run underneath his bed.
© Copyright 2005 Rick Quick (rikquik at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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