We had a very busy week last week. Busy is good! But it means I didn’t have a chance to sit down and type the piece I had intended to type. Instead of something fresh for you today, I’m posting an old story I shared with family and friends.
We parents have had to be very creative with our kids – their schooling, their therapies, and their special diets. This story is about a time I tried to make something healthy. You’ll be so glad your device doesn’t come with smell-o-scope while reading this.
I woke up a little past 7 o’clock this morning and got a whiff of something rancid. Ohmyword. The smell. Ronan was still asleep when I sniffed what I sniffed, but I immediately thought, Oh, no. Ronan must have pooped sometime in the middle of the night. Poor kid. I’ll have to wake him up to change his diaper. I walked into Ronan’s room, and the smell disappeared. That was good. But that meant that the source of the stink was coming from somewhere else.
After changing Ronan, I walked toward the kitchen. The smell permeated through that room and into our den. Was it the garbage can? No, but I took the garbage out anyway. Strange. The garage smelled awful, too. My gosh! What is that smell?
I walked back into the house and called my husband, “Hey, I think something died in the garage. Call me back when you get a chance.”As I walked toward the kitchen, my oldest came around the corner. “Mom! You left the stove on…all night?!” I nodded and said, “Honey, it’s bone broth. You’re supposed to cook it for hours and hours and hours.”
I repeated that first sentence in my head: …it’s bone broth…