The Tao of Sesame Street

A loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter: To some, it's is a simple shopping list. To others, especially those who grew up in the 70's, it's the memorable line from a classic Sesame Street clip. A little girl is asked by her mother to go to the store for a loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter.

"Do you want me to write it down for you?" the mom asks?

"No," the little girl assures her, "I can remember." And she does, repeating the list all the way to the store: A loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter. That little girl wasn't the only one who remembered that shopping list. Thousands of little kids, including myself, remembered it too.

Today, when this list popped into my head, I did a quick Google search of that phrase and several blogs came up referring to that little animated scene from Sesame Street. I even found a link to the actual clip! I love the way the internet validates these random memories of mine and instantly lets me know that lots of other people are taking similar trips down memory lane.

So, you might be wondering what it was that sparked my memory of Sesame Street's loaf of bread, container of milk and stick of butter.

It all started when I woke up. It had been relatively quiet downstairs, so I didn't worry much as I lay in bed. I came downstairs, assuming I'd find my 3 sweet boys sitting together on the couch watching an enriching episode of Sponge Bob Square Pants, all cuddled together under the same blanket. Obviously, I must have still been in a dream-like state to think I'd find this utopian scene in my own family room.

Instead, what I found was my two youngest, sitting on the kitchen floor with a loaf of bread, trying to make sandwiches for breakfast. Slices of bread were scattered on the floor with the rest of the loaf in the ripped up bag not far from where they sat. And bless their hearts, they were trying to make "circle" sandwiches just like Mommy makes. What they didn't know is that Mommy has a special little kitchen tool to cut circles and crimp the edges of their sandwiches, making cute little crustless pockets. Evidently, what they also didn't know was that Mommy doesn't use the dirty floor as a cutting board!

I moved their project up to the counter and since I'd mopped within the last 3 days, I let them keep their already round bread slices they had so cleverly cut out using a crystal water glass. I helped them finish their sandwiches, then swept the crumbs into a neat little pile and rushed around to make my oldest son's lunch for school, help him find his shoes, comb away the bed head, and get him out the door in time for the 8:08 school bus.

After getting everyone else ready for the day, I figured I should get myself ready as well. Of course had I gotten out of bed before the kids had, I would have been in and out of the shower and half way to being presentable before the kids got up. Of course I also wouldn't have had half a loaf of bread lying in slices on my kitchen floor needing to be cleaned up either. But if this was the price to pay for sleeping in, I was ok with that!

After cleaning up the breakfast dishes and getting the kids all settled and playing nicely in the play room, I decided I would very quickly attempt a shower. of course the shower in my mind, the "mom shower" as I call it, only lasts about 2-3 minutes. The real shower always ends up lasting longer than that, but certainly not long enough for the kids to get into any trouble!

However, by the time I got out of the shower, I could hear that there were no kid sounds coming from the play room. I quickly got dressed and started to inspect my very quiet house. Every mom knows that the worst thing you can hear in a house with kids is silence. My investigation ended in the kitchen, where I found my two darling boys trying to pour themselves a couple of cups of milk. The gallon of milk had been nearly full, but now, some of the milk was in the cups and a lot more was all over the kitchen floor.

My middle son must have decided to take charge because he had several dish towels out and was using them to sop up the milk. Of course the dishtowels were completely saturated, so really all he was doing was spreading the milk spill even farther across the kitchen floor than it already had been. I started to wonder if I could buy a lock for my refrigerator. Actually, what I really needed was a lock for the whole kitchen!

I took some deep breaths, reminded my boys about the rule that only mommy gets food from the refrigerator, had a little chat about "asking first", and began another round of clean up.

At this point, I was determined to be vigilant. I was not going to let my kids out of my sight. I would keep them entertained and engaged. Most importantly, I would provide snacks and meals so they would not feel the need to forage for food on their own. No more food prep on the kitchen floor for my boys.

I kept up my watchful eye until the phone rang later that afternoon. It was my sister. We had not spoken for a day and a half, so naturally we had a lot to talk about. Initially I parked myself down next to my kids while I chatted on the phone. But after a while, they got to be a little too loud and were really starting to get on my nerves, so I moved to a comfy chair in my bedroom and resumed my conversation with my sister. Only when we finished talking did I realize how quiet it had become. I was sure the kids were downstairs watching some educational show on PBS or maybe they'd fallen asleep while coloring! All kinds of ideas popped into my head offering possible reasons for the silence. Actually, I was in a panic-induced denial.

As I popped my head into the family room, I saw two little boys playing and watching a show on TV. Everything looked fine, but something was wrong. My special "Mom Sense" was telling me something was very wrong. I scanned the room: Educational PBS show on TV, one little boy sitting on the couch, toys on the floor, unwrapped stick of butter on the arm of the overstuffed chair, little boy sitting in the overstuffed chair…WAIT! There was an unwrapped stick of butter on the arm of the overstuffed chair!!

All kinds of things went through my mind: How many things have they touched with their greasy hands? Do they still have greasy hands? Where should I start cleaning first? Where is the wrapper? Do I throw the butter out or should I try and clean it off and use it? Why butter? For the love of Pete, WHY BUTTER!

My boys looked up at me with ambivalent eyes as if they were both proud of their butter conquest yet sensed that they were in big trouble.

Launching into triage mode, I first cleaned both boys' hands, and then removed the stick of butter, which had already left a nice, neat grease rectangle on the arm of my favorite chair. As I returned the butter to the fridge, figuring I could decide later if I wanted to salvage it, my "Mom Sense" picked up on something else: there were 3 sticks of butter in the fridge before. Now, however, there was only the one I'd just put in. Two sticks were still missing!

I ran back to the family room and begged the boys to tell me where the other sticks of butter were. They looked at me as if I were speaking Portuguese and said nothing.

"Butter!" I demanded, "Where are the other sticks of butter, where are the wrappers?"

One son pointed and I followed his point to a beautifully wrapped stick of butter sitting on a lower shelf behind some toys. I bent down to grab it, thinking my luck had changed. Only one more stick to find and I figured it had to be close and prayed that it was still wrapped. I pulled back the rest of the toys and found nothing. I turned around and peeked under the big, now grease-stained, overstuffed chair. Pulling back the skirt, I saw not just an unwrapped stick up butter, but also one that clearly had several bites taken out of it and clear indentions where a little hand had grasped it tightly.

After some more deep breaths, I put things into perspective. There was no changing what had been done. I glanced at the clock: 4 hours and 17 minutes until bedtime. I knew I would survive the day. Suddenly that little Sesame Street cartoon popped into my head: A loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter. I pondered those 3 kitchen staples, feeling like Sesame Street had, all those years ago, given me some twisted glimpse into my future as a Mother. Instead of me sending an eager child down the street to the store to pick up groceries, I was the one picking up these items, but in a completely different way. Now I'm left to wonder what other kinds of Sesame Street moments await me!