Eulogy to my double oven

I could start this with a massive political harangue, because I've been thinking about it, but I won't. My next book to read is Alexis DeToqueville's Democracy in America, however. I last read it in high school or college and I can't remember exactly what it said, but I know it was good and apropo to the times. If I could get through The Federalist Papers I would probably read that, too, but I'm not sure if reading in three- or four-minute segments allows for any deep understanding. By the time the kids are in bed at night my brain is shot. What I will really read, when given the choice between something staggeringly profound and something fun in the evenings when I have some free time, is something fun 60% of the time.
Okay, 70%
85%, tops.

I shouldn't have mentioned my wonderful double oven in a recent post: I jinxed myself. Child Four was swinging a heavy A&W glass mug in a carefree way in the kitchen and accidentally knocked the glass on the oven door, which broke into thousands of pieces and slid all over the kitchen floor. From where I was sitting it sounded like an avalanche of marbles, and I couldn't figure out what we had that would make that sound. Husband, who was nearby, banished the kids so they wouldn't cut their feet and spent the next half-hour sweeping and vacuuming glass fragments. Good-bye, second oven. I loved you for your ability to cook pies while I also cooked dinner in the top oven at the same time. I loved you for allowing me to get all the meal components on the table, simultaneously hot and on time (which is still somewhere around 8 pm. It takes a lot to make me want to cook in the evenings these days). Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were so simple with you, dear oven, even when cooking for 15 or 20. At least, beloved oven, you weren't the oven with convection cooking. Still, I will miss you.
Well, it gives Husband something to look for with his Magical Bargain Eyes. I think he bought that oven second-hand for about $50 and it served us well for a long time. After that: an induction cooktop.

Oldest Child is at camp this week. She gets home tomorrow and it will be nice to see her big blue eyes again. She already has a babysitting job for tomorrow night, should she choose to accept it.

That's all I got. Oh, except that Four took Six downstairs without his diaper after we got home from swimming. As Six is only 11 months old, he isn't potty trained. I spent quite a while cleaning up a poopy mess out of the carpet before I wrote this. Aren't you glad I told you? I'm just pointing out some more nasty messes mothers must be inured to in order to fulfill the job. Yeah, I'm tough.