Diabolical Gravy Cuteness

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 As Logged By:

Agent Rose

 

Mommy's stuck fighting lumps

That look somewhat like moldy bumps.

But, it does smell quite delightful

And I'm not yet full.

 

Down the hatch should they go?

What if it tastes like old Play-doh?

I'll have Mommy taste a bit.

Hmm... Someone's having a fit. 

 

What on Earth is Mommy making?
 
It better not be meant for eating!
 
Gooey, brown lumps keep dropping every time she lifts her spoon.  
 
SPLAT, SPLUT, GLUNK!
 
Yuk.
 
"I can't get these lumps to dissolve!"  Mommy exclaims and gives the lumpy yuk another swift stir.  "What am I doing wrong?  Look, Rosie, what do you think?"
 
Before I can protest, Mommy picks me up.  Over to the stove she brings me to stare down into a pot of moldy bumps and steam.
 
Yuk. 
 
"Can you believe what's happened to my gravy?"  Mommy asks and my eyes bulge.
 
That can't be gravy!
 
"I know, I know.  You're just a baby.  You don't know anything about making gravy."
 
Excuse me?  I know enough to know that it isn't supposed to look like moldy bumps.
 
Yuk.
 
I take a big inhale and get ready to let Mommy know I didn't like her comment, when the inhale suddenly stops.
 
Yummy.
 
I go for another.
 
Yes.  Yes, that does smell delicious.  It may look totally and completely gross, but it does, in fact, smell like gravy.
 
GURGLE, GURGLE. 
 
"Sounds like somebody's hungry."
 
I am, Mommy, and I want some gravy.
 
However, when I look again at the stove, I second guess if the gravy I want is that.  
 
GURGLE.
 
"I know, how about I spoon some into a bowl and we'll find out if it still tastes okay."
 
Tastes okay?  I doubt that.
 
This looks rubbery and chewy.  Not soft and creamy.  This looks like it'll taste just like play-doh, not turkey drippings and simmered down broth.
 
I look at the bowl when Mommy sets it down.  The steam does smell yummy, maybe I will enjoy a little taste.
 
Though I reach for the spoon, I can't get my hand to grab hold.  I'm too scared, I tell you!  I'm too nervous and worried of it tasting yukky.  
 
Wait, I know.
 
I take a firm hold and lift up a big scoop.
 
"Wait, Rosie!  It's still too..."
 
PLOP!
 
I tried to aim for Mommy's mouth, but she ducked just in time!  Now that lumpy goo is clinging to her hair.  
 
"ROSIE!  DON'T YOU DARE."
 
Too late, I've scooped and flung another.
 
 
Upcoming Log:  Diabolical Geese
 
Previous Log:  A Diabolical Bath Time 

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