Sour Milk

Last night we sat down to partake of our delicious meal of homemade Mac n cheese (the kind that is oozing with gooey goodness and leaves a string of melted cheddar from plate to mouth) when my youngest daughter, Kaila, made a startling comment. "This milk tastes like fish!"


We had just began eating and I had not had the opportunity to try my milk yet, and since we inhale milk at our house at an impressive rate, it has never, in 11 years of marriage, made it even close to an expiration date.


Kaila is known for her dramatics so I assumed we were gearing up for an award winning production of "let's blow everything out of proportion". So I gave her a stern look and a warning tone "drink your milk and if you keep complaining I'll assume you're dehydrated and I fill your glass with more"


That is my answer to any type of whining. Give them more of whatever they are complaining about. Rebelling at bedtime?...they must be overly tired and need to be sent to bed earlier so they can get more sleep. Complaining about an annoying sibling?....they must not appreciate one another and are made to spend more time together......Roll your eyes at your mother for hugging you goodbye at school?.....they must need more affection so I'll leave them with a hug AND a kiss next time. This system works surprisingly well!


Kaila dipped an eyebrow in concern but raised her glass to her lips again and took the smallest of sips. Just to demonstrate how ridiculous she was I grabbed my full glass and took a swig. It was cold....refreshing....and.....fishy?


I looked around the table at the others. Allana, my marathon milk drinker, had drained her glass before the prayer had time to leave our lips and she was was winding a large forkful of cheese with pure joy. Danny also had emptied his glass and was now savoring each cheesy mouthful in what only could be described as PG-13 rated expressions. Makenna was too busy talking to no one in particular about her day at school and she had yet to touch her plate, or glass.


Not wanting to cause concern I reasoned that milk has a tendency to take on the taste of whatever the cows had recently eaten. Munching on onions causes a slight onion flavored milk. Certain clovers can sweeten a gallon or two. Perhaps this cow had unknowingly wandered into....ummm...a stream? Snuck up on an unsuspecting fish, hoofed it to death, and then eaten it? Seemed unlikely.


I asked Allana to please go to the fridge and retrieve the milk carton. She was happy to oblige hoping to beg off another refill. I turned the carton and located the expiration date. To my horror it was over a week expired! How could this be? Did it get shoved to the back of the shelf when new gallons were bought and then resurfaced only after all the others had been drank? Whatever the reason, I knew what I must do.


PUT YOUR GLASSES DOWN! I announced. Conversations stopped and all eyes turned to me. "We have a situation" I went on, "the milk in your glasses have expired and is no longer good to drink, please make an orderly line to the sink and dispose of it immediately"


Have you ever seen a movie where an unknown epidemic spreads throughout a town or country and people go into a state of hysteria and panic? Insert my family and welcome to the show.


Makenna (saved by her gift of gab) had only taken a swallow. Wide eyed she slowly slide her glass into the center of the table as if it contained acid and even a drop of it would melt the skin off her hand clean to the bone.


Allana stood frozen in mid twirl carefully taking an inventory of how her inners were settling. "I drank a full glass" she said in a shocked state, her face frozen in a doom-like expression, as if I had just told her the doctor called and she had two days to live.


Danny smacked his lips together thoughtfully."I didn't even notice" he said in a surprised tone. "Oh well a little diarrhea never hurt anyone." I immediately wanted to point out that people who had died of Dysentery would probably disagree but changed my mind and kept quiet not wanting to add to the frenzy and glad for his optimistic attitude.


And Kaila.....my poor theatrical bundle of useless energy. Her eyes glazed over, her body went ridged, and within seconds she started making gagging noises, willing her body to rid itself of the poison within. "Am I going to die?" she asked weakly supporting herself on a nearby chair.


"No honey, a stomach ache maybe....death? Unlikely" I answered with rolled eyes.


This did little to appease her. Over the next two hours I had to witness episodes of stumbling and drunk like weaving, all due to the effects of the tainted milk. Arms too weak to pick up her backpack or hold a pencil to complete her homework. And several announcements that she was sure that the stomach ache she was experiencing meant that she was bleeding internally and because I refused to take her to the hospital, and I was the one who forced to to drink the poisoned milk, I would probably be charged with murder after they found her cold lifeless body In the morning......all in all she was handling it better then I thought.


I had just gotten all my sleeping beauties off to their assigned beds and had settled in with a good book when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement at my bedroom door.


Kaila staggered to my bedside. She stared into space as if looking for something far off into the distance. "Yesssss?" I inquired exasperatedly " Can I help you with something?"


"Mom?" she answered as if surprised "Mom is that you?" she turned her head towards my voice but continued to look straight head, her hand searched the top of my quilt until it rested upon mine.


"I was sleeping" she continued "and when I woke up everything was blurry......(insert a dramatic gulp)....Mom I think the poisoned milk.....(another dramatic gulp)..... has made me BLIND!"


Dun Dun Dun!!!


It took all my strength not to burst into hysterical laughter. Where does this kid get her imagination? Did I unknowingly eat some tainted mushrooms when I was pregnant? Maybe her nursery walls contained lead paint? Whatever the reason this was out there, even for her.


I prepared for my tactical maneuver "Sweetheart put yourself back to bed and if in the morning you are still blind I will look into getting you a seeing eye dog" I had tapped into her weakness. Dogs.


Satisfied with my proposition Kaila felt her way along my bedroom wall, expertly stepping over stray shoes and decorative pillows as she made her way back to her room.


In the morning, as usual, all was forgotten and back to normal. No one had died or been permanently maimed and surprisingly, a miracle had happened and Kaila's eye sight had returned....hallelujah!!!