As many of you probably know, yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. It's a big day in Mexico, but we in the United States like to enjoy it too. In honor of this day of festivity, I made chicken fajitas. After cooking, I had to get my son from the bus stop. I turned the stove to "low" just to keep the meal warm.
When I returned, I served the meal to my kids.
Then I went to work.
When I returned about five hours later, I noticed the skillet was in the sink, and it looked like the remnants of the fajita filling were stuck to the bottom. I didn't think anything of it until I went to pack my kids' lunches. I had a tortilla wrap for them. But when I searched for it in the refrigerator, I couldn't find it.
"Bubba," I called. "Did you eat the wrap that was in here?" I figured he's the number one culprit for eating things before they should be eaten.
"No," he called. "It wasn't me!"
That left the number two culprit: my husband.
I found him in his office. He was at his desk. And the remnants of the wrap were on a plate in front of him. "You ate the wrap?" (Yes, I know, a stupid question because it was quite obvious that he had!)
He looked at me. "Woman. Were you trying to burn the house down?"
I looked at him quizzically. "What to you mean?"
"You left the stove on. Whatever you made for dinner was smoking!"
I had to think fast. "Yeah," I said. "It was part of the smoke and fireworks show for Cinco de Mayo. Glad you enjoyed it!"