Last night my husband made another delicious meal. Barbequed meat balls, rice, vegetables, and home made rolls along with the best batch of chocolate chip cookies ever (which I had a couple of, and shouldn’t have, BUT for those of you who care, I wanted 12 and only had 2, so there is THAT).
Bart had told the kids that if they didn’t want the rolls cold they could heat them up in the microwave. Dominyk disappeared for a minute (which is not uncommon at dinner time) and then returned to the table. A few minutes later Tony left to go warm up a roll. He came back with this roll, now dark brown, formerly a buttery white. He had found it still cooking in the microwave. We asked Dominyk how long he had put it in for, to which he replied 88:88. It was as hard as a brick and very very hot.
He did suggest that it was so hot we could just put it in the bowl with the other rolls to heat them up, but it was smelling fairly burnt, so we declined his kind offer.
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