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Hi everyone!  Mama Bread Baker is back and she’s off on new adventures in Los Angeles.  Come on over to The Saga Citythe new home of writer, Cheri Thacker, and her beloved character Mama Bread Baker.

Left Behind – A Rapture Scare Incited by Toddler’s Hide-And-Seek Game


Toddling crumbsnatchers love games. Especially “Hide and Seek.” Especially with their parents. And it seems to be exceedingly fun for the tiny tots when Mom and Dad have no clue they are joining in the game.

It was 1991 and I thought The Rapture had occurred leaving me behind eight years before I expected. My entire generation knew the world would end at 11:59 p.m. on December 31st, 1999 just like Prince predicted. We just weren’t clear whether it would Eastern or Central Standard Time.

1999 (song)

Party like it’s 1999 (song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Eldest was barely old enough to toddle around our tiny two-bedroom house. One afternoon, things went a little too quiet. Oh geez, what is he getting into? I looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found in the barely 800 square-foot home. I swear.

I started in back in his room which contained nothing more than an armoire and a baby-bed standing one foot off the ground. He wasn’t there. I glanced at his two windows, and both were closed.

His room opened into the dining room. It held a four-legged dining table and a hope chest. There were no barefoot feet under the table. And the hope chest was locked.

To my right was the kitchen. The back door hadn’t been touched, otherwise I’d have heard. When someone opened the door, it sounded like the hinges on the gates of hell. At least what I suspected they sounded like.

I checked every cabinet and inside the oven. Oh sweet Jesus, where is this child? 

I began to wonder how I’d explain to Officer D.A.R. that I’d lost his son.

“Hey honey,how was your day?”


“I’ve got some chicken and rice in the oven for dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

“By the way, I lost The Eldest today.”

“Good lord woman. How’d you manage that?”

That’s when I thought maybe The Rapture had occurred.

Rapture sign -- Holding up well after 14 years...

It wasn’t 1992 yet, but close enough to scare! (Photo credit: marcn)

I did a quick spiritual inventory and began to sweat. Growing up in a staunch southern Baptist household, I recounted my sins. I didn’t record those two extra Weight Watchers points for the M&M’s I’d stolen from The Eldest’s snack. And look at me, I’m a thief! I just took the Lord’s name in vain when I thought “Oh sweet Jesus, where is this child?” Oh sweet Jesus, I just did it again. And again. Stop it. ‘Cause thinking is just as bad as doing.’ That’s what Mrs. Priss always said in Sunday School. 

I checked the linen closet. Under the sheets. In pillowcases. My thoughts continued to count my transgressions.

Damn it, where is that child? Oh great, now I’m cursing. If Jesus is planning on coming back to get me, I better watch my mouth. Please forgive me for everything I’ve forgotten to ask forgiveness for.

“Son! You better stop hiding and come out. I know you hear me calling you!”

I know I’m behind on my daily Bible reading, but can’t You cut me a little slack? You can see I have a toddler. And yesterday, I skipped “Days of Our Lives” to read him the Sampson story for the millionth time.

Oops, do You consider exaggerations to be lies? I didn’t know. Forgive me. 

By this time, I’d checked the bathroom and our teeny-tiny living room.

“If you are in my bedroom, I’m going to kill you!”

Oh sweet Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. And this time I meant “Oh sweet Jesus” as a term of endearment. 

I scoured the bedroom with no luck. I walked back into the living room and plopped on the couch. With elbows on my knees, I placed my face in my palms and began to bargain in prayer.

Lord, if this is The Rapture, please come back and get me. I don’t want to spend the next seven years of Tribulation with my mother-in-law. Cause I know You didn’t take her. And Lord, if I’ve just lost my child, can You please help me find him? I promise I won’t kill him, but I’m not so sure Officer D.A.R. won’t kill me if I don’t find his child before he gets home. You’d kind of be preventing a homicide, right? And I know You believe in free will and all, but just this once can’t You give the Methodist’s a nod with a little pre-destination that I will find him? 

Suddenly, I heard a snicker from the back bedroom.

Never mind, Jesus. I found him. But hey, we’re all caught up if The Rapture does come soon, right?

“Y” is for: Y Weren’t U @ Skool – 10 Pre-Written Excuses for Teenaged Tardiness/Absence

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I’m a night owl, except for the nights when I go to bed with the sun.  I’m an early riser, except for the days when I snooze until the McDonald’s menu changes from breakfast to lunch. Basically, I’m saying I’m inconsistent.

And because of that, I don’t get up to see the crumbsnatchers off to school.  Knowing that teenagers will take advantage of opportunities afforded by lazy parents, I think ahead.  At the start of each semester, I prepare notes the crumbsnatchers can choose from if they decide they don’t want to take responsibility to get their drowsy derrieres to school on time.

I realize school is almost out for summer, but here’s a sampling:

1)      Please excuse ____________________ tardiness.  His/Her sheets were so dirty we had to de-flea this morning.  Yes, the sheets.  Not the student, but feel free to check him/her upon arrival.

2)      Please excuse ____________________ tardiness.  He/She was dreaming about unicorns pooping rainbows and butterflies.  I read a lot of Dr. Seuss to him/her before bedtime.

3)      Please excuse ____________________ tardiness.  He/She ate an entire box of Brown Sugar and Cinnamon Pop Tarts before bed and sat up all night tweeting things like “#Poptarts #sugar #high”

4)      Please excuse ____________________ tardiness.  He/She was feeling ill and wanted to stay home but I don’t want their germs so I dragged him/her from under the covers, loaded him/her up with cold meds and sent them on their way.  Three hours ago.

5)      Please excuse ____________________ tardiness.  He/She claimed it was Saturday but I never flipped my calendar and I still say it’s Friday.  If it actually is Saturday, then please disregard the necessity for a tardy excuse and heap praise on him/her for Monday’s early arrival.

My method also works to hold absences to a bare minimum.

1)      Please excuse ____________________ absence yesterday.  He/She had explosive diarrhea that ran us completely out of the house.  Have you ever smelled a town with a paper mill and a skunk preserve?  Kind of like that, only worse.

2)      Please excuse ____________________ absence yesterday.  After a thorough interrogation and lie detector test by local FBI, he/she was cleared of all suspicion of being a Russian spy.

3)      Please excuse ____________________ absence yesterday.  He/She ate my last Klondike bar and was hiding in his/her closet all day.

4)      Please excuse ____________________ absence yesterday.  He/She had a cereal hangover after eating an entire box of Frosted Flakes doused with chocolate milk.

5)      Please excuse ____________________ absence yesterday.  He/She died from embarrassment about something stupid that happened the previous school day, then had an out-of-body experience where he/she saw all the people that wanted to follow them on Instagram!  It brought him/her back to life.  It’s a miracle!

Which one is your favorite excuse, and what pre-written excuse would you write?  I need to stockpile for the “Senioritis” attacks we expect from Wolfy and Sweet Pea when they return to school in August.


“N” is for News–Or is it?



I don’t watch the news very often. I rely on fabulous bloggers like Elyse at to keep me updated on the news I might actually be interested in. And Twitter feeds which are every bit as fascinating and as accurate as our local news outlets.

But tonight, while cooking dinner, The Eldest and I shared a little news bonding time outside of our normal Daily Show and Colbert Report.

We were treated to two—not one but two—EXCLUSIVE LIVE CHOPPER FIVE NEWS VIEWS. But before I share those shots with you, since some of you aren’t privy to Memphis local news stations, let me tell you why I stopped watching local news.

It was 2005, years after Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaign encouraged peer-pressured teens to pass on the cocaine lines and ganja puffs. Husband2.0 and I tuned in to the Chapel Hill, NC news just in time to learn about a large drug bust in nearby Durham, NC. Blue lights flashed on the screen from no less than ten police cruisers. I was proud that our force was cracking down on hardened drug traffickers! The anchor informed us that police seized…

“FIFTY grams of marijuana!” with much emphasis on the “fifty” and big round eyes to drive home the danger we were all in with this much hippie lettuce on the streets.

Wow! I felt so much safer.

Until I used my brain. I looked at Husband2.0 and said, “Did she say ‘FIFTY grams of marijuana’?”


“Ummm, isn’t that about the amount in my Lawry’s Pumpkin Pie Spice container?”


A container of pumpkin pie spice. Español: Un ...

Seriously, go grab one of your spice containers and see how much fifty grams is. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And that’s why I stopped watching local news.

But after tonight’s two—not one but two—EXCLUSIVE LIVE CHOPPER FIVE NEWS VIEWS, I might reconsider my news watching habits.

The first EXCLUSIVE LIVE FIVE CHOPPER NEWS VIEW was of the top of the Memphis post office because that’s where the ricin-laced letters sent to the POTUS and Sen. Roger Wicker (R-MS) where postmarked.

And the second EXCLUSIVE FIVE LIVE CHOPPER NEWS VIEW was of another building where something of so much significance happened that I’ve already forgotten what it was.

I think it’s back to the Daily Show and Colbert Report for me. At least we get funny faces with their news reports.

“M” is for Mirror, Mirror – Fat Lady In The Pool



Mirror, Mirror on the wall

Who’s the fattest of them all?

When I was young,

My eyes deceived.

Heavier than I was,

Is what I believed.

 Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Who’s the fattest of them all?

Now that I’m old,

My eyes, they lie

Telling me I’m not plump,

On them I rely.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Who’s the fattest of them all?

Aged or of youth,

My eyes, they fool.

Pictures speak the truth,

               And BMI is cruel.

Forget you mirror……….I’m getting in the pool!!!

“J” is for Just Sayin’


Yeah, I know I’m a day behind, but give me a break.  I just came off a 6 day game of Hide-and-Seek and I Spy.

"J" is for Just Sayin'

“J” is for Just Sayin’

Recently, I learned that there are certain individuals who believe I have a super power and I use it for evil manipulation.  That super power is the use of “Vocabulary.”

That’s probably the highest praise my writing has received to date.

You see, to take words and group them in such a way to transfer the author’s thoughts to paper, then transfer from paper to the mind of the reader, without any loss to the original intent, indeed, is an artful and skillful feat.  One could call it manipulation, but most people call it communication.

Maybe I should try my super power at Mickey D’s to score a free apple pie.

“Excuse me, can you watch my mouth while I speak to you.”  [That’s how you activate the super power when you can’t use email.]

Then I’d lick my plump lips, triggering my super-duper Vocabulary power, and say,

“I’m of the recent persuasion that my nutritional needs require the ingestion of sustenance comprising warmed fruit compote wrapped in a baked, flaky tartlet.”

Miss Would-You-Like-Fries-With-That would be mesmerized by my words and would robotically turn to the warming area to grab an apple pie and toss into my bag along with my calorie-laden and cholesterol saturated #8 combo.

A McDonald's apple pie.

Forget using my super power to bring about world peace.  I want an apple pie! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

To be honest, I’m not trying to manipulate anyone.  I simply desire to communicate thoughts utilizing a collection of words designed to convey meaning.   But it appears my multi-syllabic word choices give off the wrong impression.

“Really?  Because I used the word ‘exacerbate’?”

“Yeah.  They think you just make words up.”

I was speechless for 23.5 seconds, which just so happens to be my personal best.

“So you’re telling me

that because I’m literate,

someone believes I’m trying to manipulate them…

with the English language…


Granted, text speak has dumbed down our vocabulary but it’s got me a little scared to orate with populaces.  What would they deliberate if I articulated that I was to be matriculated by the university soon?

I asked Chief that question and he said, “Ain’t nobody gonna matriculate you but me!”

Maybe we should encourage more use of’s Word of the Day app.

Just sayin’.

“Hide-and-Seek” and “I Spy” by Bowls The Cat

"H" is for Hide-and-Seek

“H” is for Hide-and-Seek

"I" is for I Spy

“I” is for I Spy

***Note from Mama Bread Baker***

Bowls the Cat was found last night at Sonic after he escaped on “D” day. This is some of what he wrote. Chief and I, and all the Crumbsnatchers are happy to have him home.


It’s been six days since Sweet Pea took me for a ride in her snazzy, jazzy car to get a Reese’s Pieces Blizzard from Sonic. Boyfriend2.0 went with her, and I decided it would be fun to play a game of hide-and-seek with them. So, after I got my ice cream I jumped out of her car and hid.

Sweet Pea & Boyfriend2.0 immediately started playing and I barely had time to pick good spot. They found me real quick.

I hate losing, but I figured we had time for Two-Out-Of-Three. So, when they put me back in the car, I jumped out the other door before Boyfriend2.0 could close it, and I hid again.

I know Sweet Pea was having fun because she brought some friends along to play our game. They looked everywhere while I snickered at them from my super-secret hiding spot. Sweet Pea even called Mama Bread Baker and Chief Money Maker to join in the fun. I was thrilled because they hardly ever leave the house.

Just between you and me, those lazy bums could use the exercise, know what I mean?

Anyway, it’s day six and they still haven’t found me. How good am I, huh?

MBB put up all these bright yellow fliers with my picture on it. Cheater. I’ll have to teach her a lesson about integrity when I’m announced the winner of this on-going, tedious game.

I’ll cut her some slack, though, because she was surely trying to one-up CMM. Those two make everything a contest. So tiresome.

The picture she used for the fliers wasn’t my favorite. I’d just eaten and felt all bloated and stuff. I hadn’t even washed my hair yet that day, and obviously, MBB hadn’t vacuumed that rug in weeks.

Bowls Reward

I wish she’d used the one with me and that smelly dog they insist upon calling my “brother.” It showed my best side, if I do say so myself. Hint…it’s my butt.

So I’m just sitting here, shellacking, waiting for MBB and her new friend, Beth, to come back and play the game today. They’ve been coming every day. A couple times they tried to trick me by coming out at night, but I’m not falling for that. No way, Guadalupe!

I did start to feel sorry for them, so I decided to help them out a little. I let the Sonic manager see me this morning. Then he called MBB and her new friend, Beth.

“I’m 99% sure it’s him,” he said.

Geez, you would think for as long as I sat there he’d be a 100% sure. Humans. No confidence whatsoever.

So now MBB’s brought a new friend to help her out. MBB called her Colleen and told her that she’d been married to Chief for 2 years today and all she wants is to win this game.

I should probably give up. I’m so much smarter than my people. If I wait until they actually find me, I’ll grow gray in the whiskers and I don’t really want to live at Sonic forever–no matter how good their Blizzards are!

Sweet Pea and her friends gave up a couple of hours ago. MBB and Colleen haven’t spotted me yet. Now here comes CMM. He’s got the flashlight and he’s checking all around.

Awwww, man. Beth just opened some deliciously smelly mackrel.

preppin' bait... yum.

preppin’ bait… yum. (Photo credit: tiny.tussle)

That’s a low blow. How am I supposed to resist that? Ok, ok. I give.

I’m tired anyway. It’s time to go home.

Very tired Kitty-Boy after 6 days of Hide-and-Seek

Very tired Kitty-Boy after 6 days of Hide-and-Seek