Logan has a little habit of pulling open the oven just a little bit, and then letting it slam shut. I always tell him, "No, hot!", and move him along to something else. So far, we've had no oven incidents, but after turning on the oven to cook dinner Sunday night, I'm afraid we might be purchasing an oven lock.
After about 5 minutes of the oven being on, I started to smell something, like a burning type smell, but not just food burning. I opened the oven and it looked like a big puddle of ketchup had been dropped on the oven floor. I ran outside and asked Chris if he had dropped sauce or ketchup in the oven and forgot to clean it. He looked totally puzzled and had no idea what I was talking about.
I opened the oven door again and very carefully, dipped a corner of a paper towel in the mysterious goo to see if I could tell what it was. My scientific findings determined that is was, in fact, not ketchup or sauce, but it was some type of plastic. Chris and I racked our brains thinking about what it could be. While holding my nose and trying not to breathe in the possibly toxic fumes, I suddenly had a flashback to the morning. Logan was playing with the bucket of farm animals while I ran upstairs to switch the laundry over. I remember thinking I heard the oven open, but when I ran back downstairs he was playing in the living room, so I didn't think any more about it.
I grabbed the farm animal bucket, and desperately searched for the animal with no match. (Just like Noah, these things come in two's.) There he was...the lonesome little cow....missing his friend.
Rest well little cow....and thanks a lot for ruining my oven cooked meals for the next few weeks. I guess tonight we will eat, Lemon Pepper Chicken with a hint of plastic cow.