When Cliff and I got married, I had been living on my own for about three years, so I had a few pots and pans, a coffeepot, a cast iron skillet... you know, the basics. I didn't have a toaster, though. Honestly, I never missed having a toaster. I can live without toast in my life.
Fast forward about five years. I had a two-year-old and a four-year-old, and suddenly I felt the need for a toaster. Christmas was coming up and when relatives asked what we wanted, one of my requests was a four-slice toaster. Something like this one:
I know. I'm a terrible mother. Who turns a two-year-old loose with a toaster? Those kids could have been horribly burned or mutilated. Thank God they survived.
Anyway, for the first month after we received the wonderful toaster, we were not surprised to smell toast cooking any time the kids were awake. My children, both of them, had learned how to get a slice of bread, put it in the toaster, push the lever down, wait expectantly, and then take the toast to the table and spread butter or peanut butter or jelly (or any combination thereof) on it, and make themselves a snack.
My babies could cook! I didn't even make them ask permission. My children, if you are hungry, make some toast! God has blessed us with a toaster!
As I said, I was a terrible mother. We sure had fun, though.
Back then, toast could be made in about 60 seconds. When it popped up, it was hot, so I taught my babies to be very careful. Toast is hot, children! This was an important life lesson for them. Half the life lessons they learned were learned in my kitchen.
The toaster I have today takes at least three minutes to turn bread into toast; you could starve, waiting for it to pop up. And when it DOES pop up, it isn't hot. It won't melt butter.
Maybe I should get on Ebay and buy a toaster made in the sixties.
