I made potato salad over the Labor Day weekend. Of course, it wouldn’t be normal if something hadn’t “happened.” “Pulling a Deb” is what Jim and Kevin like to call these incidents.

The boys seemed to need something every two minutes. And if you’ve ever made potato salad, it’s a little time-consuming. Lots of chopping, dicing, and slicing.

I found myself repeatedly stepping away from the cutting board to get Hayden some milk, help Griffin find his football, pick up the goldfish Hayden spilled before Darby could eat them, etc. At one point, I told the boys “Mommy needs a little time to finish this or we will never leave to go see Grandma.” Both boys stared at me blankly as though they had no idea what I was talking about. This was going well.

Finally, I began chopping, dicing, and slicing at a faster pace, trying to finish. In my hurry, I cut my finger. Griffin heard me yell, and asked what happened. “I cut myself, but I’m ok,” I told him.

“You should probably slow down,” he wisely responded. “That’s how we get hurt.”

Wonder where he’s heard that before.