We have a fridge, like most families.
It sits in our kitchen and is overdue for a thorough scrubbing.
There are twelve jars of olives at various stages of fullness.
There is apple juice, orange juice, milk and a jug of water.
There’s cheese, cold meat, vegetables, fruit, butter, eggs and condiments that require refrigeration. There may be some curry pastes that expired several years ago. I’m not proud of that.
To my knowledge, there are no secret compartments of any kind.
At least seventeen times a day, I get the following question with a hint of frustration, “Mom, where is the insert any item here?”
Last night, Hanna stood with the fridge door wide open and asked, “Mom, where’s the yogurt?”
I have no idea why I’ve committed the location of just about every item to memory but I quickly said, “Middle shelf behind the jam.”
A few minutes later Ellie asked, “Mom, where’s the jam?”
“Middle shelf in front of the yogurt.”
I think the kids (and Greg) now ask before they even open the fridge, “Mom, where are the nectarines?” “Mom, where is the cheese?” “Liz, where’s that barbecue sauce I like?”
I fear my family is losing the ability to find things for themselves because I’m doing it for them before they even try.
Chloe, our four year old stood with the fridge door open last night.
It was killing me not to help her because I wanted her to close the door before everything warmed up and spoiled.
I calmly asked her, “Chloe, what are you looking for?”
She replied, “My purple marker.”
Top shelf, beside the t.v. remote.