That’s Not Chinese took on the responsibility of babysitting her nephew and did a great job doing so. She swaddled him, cottled him and breast milk in a bottled him.
Later, when her sister returned, she asked That’s Not Chinese how she warmed the bottle and, when That’s Not Chinese replied, “microwave,” all hell broke lose. Although microwaving breast milk is not preferred – primarily because uneven heating may occur (possibly scalding the mouth) and it may cook out the nutrients – it is not likely to kill a child.
Nonetheless, That’s Not Chinese got the third degree (unlike the baby). “You’d think I was a common criminal,” she told me while we were debriefing on the stoop with wine. There are many things I would consider That’s Not Chinese to be, but common is not one of them. “You know when you were putting the dishes away and asked where to put some of them?” she asked and then said, “I wanted to tell you, ‘In the cabinet under the killing machine.'” That comment about the microwave might have killed her sister.
The next day, I was at my house getting ready for work and couldn’t find one of my boots. I searched my closet and room thoroughly to no avail. Perplexed by the situation, I decided to retrace all of my steps over the last few days. I had been procrastinating doing my laundry and, to make myself feel better, had thrown a pile of dirty clothes from my room into the washing machine. Not wanting to take the time to add soap and turn on the machine, I left the pile of dirty clothes, and my boot, in the machine, unwashed. Luckily, I hadn’t washed my boot – that would have killed me.