Charlotte is back on a kick of wanting to "help" me cook dinner each night. One evening, I gave her some ice cubes to stir into some water. Then, I started giving her random things from the pantry to stir into a concoction. She cackled like an old crone over her cauldron as she carefully stirred her brew. If only Rocky was a black cat -- then the witchy image would have been complete. I should have gotten the witch's hat out of the dress-up bin, actually.
Corey got home soon after and actually tasted that nasty mixture. It was a combination of salty, savory, sweet, and just plan strange. (And yes, Mom, I sanitized the counter after Rocky put his grubby little paws up there.)