This morning Evie was helping me make oatmeal for breakfast. She was standing on a chair next to the stove, getting ready to put the oatmeal into the boiling milk.
Being the excellent chef that I am, I saw that the milk was just about to boil over. I picked up the pot to get it off the heat, hoping that it would settle before boiling over. It didn’t, and instead it came bubbling over the sides from the height of about my head, hissing against the hot stove and extinguishing the flame.
I don’t know if it was the sound, the unexpectedness, or the thought of ruining the oatmeal, but Evie completely lost her mind. She threw her hands up in the air and screamed at the top of her lungs, like a kid in a movie.
By the time I had set the pot down she was running full speed down the hall, screaming her lungs out. I ran after her saying, “itsokayitsokayitsokay” but she was gone. Sara came sprinting out of the bedroom thinking, “Forsooth, my daughter has suffered a mortal blow!” As I ran by the bedroom I could see by her face that the amazing racket Evie was sending up had made her think Evie was seriously hurt, so I tried to reassure her that “itsokay”, but I’m not sure if I was successful or not.
I finally got a hold of Evie and calmed her down and returned the house to some semblance of order. I never was able to ascertain what had frightened her so badly, but I have never seen her so afraid, or heard her scream so loud and for so long.
I can only assume she is terrified of the Quaker Oats man.