Oh. boy.  Yesterday evening the girls got into the fridge and discovered a carton of eggs.  There were four left, and I told them I’d cook them one or two, but that the others needed to be saved for breakfast, seeing as how were out of bread, oatmeal, and other things the beings here will eat.  Before I knew it there were broken eggs all over the kitchen floor.  None survived. 

SO this morning breakfast was bleak and so was lunch since we were out of mostly everything else, too.  I took Miss Willow to the grocery store tonight and bought TWO cartons of eggs and you know what she did?

DO YOU?

While I was helping Sophie, who was barfing chocolate out her nose (uh,
more on that in a moment), she opened the fridge and took out an entire
carton of eggs.  When I came in, she had smashed all but two in the
exact same place as last night.  She must be part penguin or salmon or
sea turtle.  I cleaned that up, and looked at the two eggs left.  One
was fine and the other cracked, so out it went.  Then I took the one
egg, put it back in the carton and moved both cartons up to the top
shelf, which really hurts, because THE TOP SHELF IS FOR DRINKS.
PERIOD.  I have fridge-only OCD.  The drinks go on top.  The butter
goes in a certain place and the eggs and the yougurt are neighbors, on
the shelf that is the narrowest.  But now, the eggs, they are by the
milk and I can’t even look, because it upsets me so.  Also, if there is
more than one of a kind of thing (like several odwalla juices or
something) lined up in there, they have to face the same way so the
little labels make a pretty row.  (and Auntie D KNOWS WHAT I MEAN!!) No
one else in the house gets this about me and they mess it up all the
time, so if you have been our guest and you think I’m lying, just know
that if I lived alone my fridge would be abnormally tidy. 

But, wait!  There is more!  When I tried to get started with the
dishes, Willow came running in and threw two. more. eggs.  onto the
floor, yes in the same place, and laughed.  And that was the first time
I ever called her "you little shit!"  She had made a little secret egg
stash earlier I guess, and those were the last two. 

That other thing, about the chocolate barf, which by the way smells not
bad at all, it was awful.  Poor Sophie.  At christmas I made this
chocolate ganache tart (yes, you love me) and on the list of
ingredients was 7 ounces of bittersweet chocolate.  I used about half
of a one pound bar from trader joes.  Today the girls wanted chocolate,
but we had no chocolate chips, because the cupboards are bare.  I
remembered the huge chocolate bar and gave them some.  But Sophie, she
went back for more.  And more and then some more, I guess.  She went to
her dad’s for dinner and when he brought her back he told me that she
puked chocolate out her nose and mouth ALL OVER his kitchen table.  He
was astounded at the staggering amount of chocolate that she had in her
tiny body.  I got her a bath and cleaned the rest of the chocolate out
of her nose and got her in jammies and onto the couch, with a
tupperware bowl and towel for just in case.  She was begging me to
cuddle her but before I got there, she barfed for me.  Out the nose and
into the bowl (good girl!) and we rushed to the bathroom where she kept
trying to tell me while hurling up her own toes how much it all
sucked.  But, it smelled okay.

**edited to add**

How could I forget to tell what the girls did with the broken eggs the first time?  They got down on their knees and licked them up.  Ugh.