And what is sadder still? I actually cooked another batch. And it was burned too. I didn't have the heart to take a second picture of the slightly-less burned bacon and burned freezer biscuits I served to my children. This is what happens when Daddy has to work on a Saturday! My brain just does not function at an acceptable level until 10 a.m. Is that so wrong?
I complained bitterly under my breath that I am incapable of making a decent breakfast when Big Stuff piped up, "Don't say that, Mama! It's not that bad. In fact, it's sort of good (as she eyed the bacon suspiciously.) I'm going to eat it." Man, I love that girl.