For as long as I can remember we've had Easter Sunday at my house. My mom makes the best potato casserole in the world, and we have a huge ham (not my favorite but whatevs) and people bring side dishes.
This year I was mortified to see that my mom hadn't put corn flakes on top of the potato casserole. "Don't freak out... it's just food... don't make a scene", I had to keep repeating to myself in my head.
Then I heard my aunt say "Oh shoot I forgot to make Jell-O eggs this year."
I'M SORRY??? HOW DOES ONE JUST FORGET TO MAKE JELL-O EGGS?!
I managed to pull myself together and not let any of this crazy emotion show on my face, and that's when it happened.
I made my way through the line to the huge ham my mom had prepared and wanted to make myself a dollar roll sandwich. I put the roll on my plate and then managed to find two of the only perfect little pieces of ham that were perfectly pink and had no fat on them. I was pretty pleased with myself at this point and even started to think that the rest of my family were suckers because they weren't going to have as perfect of a sandwich. This almost made up for the lackluster potatoes and the missing Jell-O egg desserts. I got too cocky though. I tried to hold my plate with one hand while reaching for the mustard, and the plate began to tip. I over-compensated and made it much worse than it would have been if I had just stood still, and I watched the ham sandwich fall to the floor.
Our 11 year old Brittany Spaniel, Matti, rushed over to help herself to some Easter Ham.
Imperfect potatoes.
No Jell-O Eggs.
And now the only thing I had going right for me, this beautiful ham sandwich, was being enjoyed by the dog.
I couldn't take it. I had lost my composure.
Easter was ruined. No amount of Starburst jelly beans or carrot cup-cakes would make up for it.
Let's hope Mother's Day brunch goes better than this. I can't handle anymore disappointments...
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