True story, happened last spring.

Spring was in the air, and all over the country proud families gathered to celebrate their college graduates. My aunt rode six long hours to attend her granddaughter’s commencement in New England. The trip was long, but she was a great traveler, entertaining the rest of the family with tales, tidbits and delightful conversation.

Sunday Morning Breakfast Surprise by allie taylor

She’s done a lot of living in her eighty years. Kind and generous, she’d give you the shirt off her back. Expressive, she often speaks in emphatic superlatives.

“Isn’t this the most MAR-velous weather you’ve ever SEEN?” She’s passionate, feels intensely…. laughs one minute, cries the next.

Resourceful, she wastes nothing. Especially food. Not a morsel, a crumb or a berry. Leftovers are promptly converted to ”absolutely de-LEC-table” casseroles or smoothies.

She was a guest in her nephew’s home over graduation weekend. Other out of town relatives stayed in nearby homes. She was scheduled to travel back home on Sunday, but would attend church first.

Her host family baked a lovely breakfast quiche. Much as she wanted to partake, she declined, not wanting to cause extra restroom stops, inconveniencing the other passengers on the long trip home.

Something must have been in the air that morning. Because her great nephew Hudson, in a house several miles north also declined breakfast. His eggs were scrambled.

He sat in his highchair, did everything BUT put them in his mouth: smushing, smearing, finger painting, and drooling. He highlighted his hair, then pushed a large mound off the tray. Plop they went, onto the floor. He giggled.

Perhaps he had no appetite because he’d been fighting a terrible cold? A-A-A-ACHOO!!!! He sneezed twice violently, successfully clearing his thickly clogged passages, then returned to the finger painting. It wasn’t pretty.

His daddy had just finished brushing his teeth, and walked into the kitchen to discover the carnage. Time was short, but he whisked the toddler to the tub for an impromptu bath.

Meanwhile, I hurriedly scooped the breakfast mess from the tray and floor, scraping it onto a plate slated for the compost pile. The plate was inadvertently left on the kitchen counter as we rushed off to an early morning church music rehearsal.

Several hours later, Auntie was dropped off at our home to catch a ride with other relatives. She cheerfully spent just a few minutes at the kitchen counter waiting for her ride to arrive, then rode the short distance to church.

She walked through the church doors, greeting us and the extended family with her characteristic exuberance and gratitude.

“Thank you so MUCH for the breakfast eggs. I found them on the counter. You are so hos-PIT-able. They were absolutely de-LIGHT-ful! Not sure if they were for ME, but as I always say….Waste not, want not!”

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The carbon monoxide detector was blaring loudly, and they knew they should call the fire department. But they hesitated, these sisters, roommates for seventy plus years. Their custom-built villa on the hill was beautifully landscaped, overflowing with antiques and original artwork. The floors were carpeted with wall to wall pristine white carpet. And the steam cleaner had come only yesterday.

The alarm continued to sound annoyingly, and so they finally dialed the number.

The fire department arrived promptly with several trucks and a herd of firemen. The first responder knocked. The sisters cracked open the mahogany front door and peeked out. The firemen had obviously come directly from another call. They were filthy and dripping wet.

“Oh dear, you just can’t come in with those dirty boots on.”

“I’m so sorry ladies, but regulations require us to keep our shoes on during all calls.”

“Well I’m sorry too, but we just can’t have any big dirty bootprints on our white carpets. They were cleaned only yesterday. ”

The alarm was screaming now. The firemen were lined up and down the front walkway, but all the sisters could see were multiple  pairs of muddy boots.

“Well, if you really must come in, you and your friends will put these booties on over your boots,” one said primly. “All our visitors wear these.” And she pulled out a large bag of medical elasticized slip-on booties from the closet.

“I’m sorry m’aam, but we just can’t put the booties on. We need to take care of your emergency immediately.”

“You either put the booties on over the boots,” she firmly reiterated, “or you don’t come in.”

“Alright ma’am,” he sighed. “We’ll wear the booties if you promise not to tell anyone, because we’d be a laughing stock in this city.” And so the sisters dutifully agreed never to tell a soul.

(Ahem.)

All the firemen trooped in and put the booties on over their boots. Except one particularly muddy one, who was sweetly ordered to remain in the foyer on the tile. He obediently complied.

Multiple tests were conducted by the bootie-clad firemen, but nothing was found amiss. It was a false alarm.

Always (!) Follow The Rules…

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