Succeeding at Disaster

Next weekend William has Easter break so we will be home for five days. I haven’t yet asked him if he wants to dye Easter eggs. It’s a mother’s job to allow her child to grow up and stop needing her but every time we let go of one of these childhood traditions, I feel a small tug of sadness that childhood is so fleeting. However, there may be one way to convince William to dye eggs. I simply must promise to turn them into deviled eggs after Easter. He is crazy for them.

Unfortunately, for William and the rest of our family, my last experience with deviled eggs was less than successful. The word disaster really is fitting. We were planning for a large group of family for Christmas day dinner and I boiled two dozen eggs in anticipation so I would have plenty. On Christmas morning I settled in to start taking the shells off of the eggs but when I cracked into the first egg I noticed it was a little soft and the yolk wasn’t quite set but it’s not uncommon to have one bad egg in the bunch. By the sixth egg, I was starting to suspect our deviled egg supply would be lower than I planned but I forged on. After all, I have never in my life under-boiled an egg. I reached the end and was left with a trash can full of shells, shredded whites, and a bowl filled with yolks that were perfectly over easy. Except I didn't want over easy. Besides, boiling eggs should not come close to producing over easy.

I sat there holding back tears of frustration wondering why, after the first few, I didn’t just try to boil them a little longer. But I summoned my determination and brainstormed for a plan b. Perhaps the microwave would help solidify the yolks a bit and who cares what the whites look like. I tried a small amount and it worked o.k. Not perfect but I thought if I could save these eggs; by golly, I’d move ahead. So I put the entire batch of yolks in the microwave. I think on that splendid Christmas day, I discovered a suitable alternate. For Silly Putty.

Those that know me, understand how important the holidays and Christmas dinner are to me. I spend months planning food and fun for the entire holiday season. So you know what I did next? I took a deep breath, pulled the trash can closer, ignoring the words that any guilt-inducing parent would say to their child, “You know there are starving people in…” and I dumped the entire mess.

Then I moved on and became a honey badger. If you are not familiar with the honey badger, I will give you a couple of warnings. One, don’t watch this with your children and, two; don’t watch if you do not have a foul sense of humor. To anyone that came into the kitchen that day, I announced there would be no deviled eggs and honey badger don’t care. And you know what else, it was probably the most relaxed Christmas dinner I have ever prepared and I think everyone else was relaxed too.

So will I try making deviled eggs again this Easter season to make my son happy? Well, it is a time of new starts and rebirth. And, darn it, if it gets him to color eggs that’s a bonus.