Not a Righty

I didn't get out of the house right away.
Why?
Because Jake's mom called that dinner was ready,
and you don't miss his mom's spaghetti casserole for any reason whatsoever.

I also strongly strongly believe that it may be the only food in the Nuri household that doesn't end up on the walls. As contradictory as it seems. I mean, spaghetti, meatballs, sauce. It's a total recipe for a food fight. Yet, all the kids, even the little three year old, dug in with hardly a squabbling word.
And I have to admit. The food was delicious. Just the right combination of meat and sauce to balance out the noodles and the cheese. I have no idea how it worked in the casserole format, but somehow it did.

"I never realized how clumsy you are with your right hand." I remarked as we returned to Jake's room after dinner. "You nearly dumped the plate on your lap, and you've had like your whole life to practice it?" Apparently, Jake wasn't safe to use his burned arm even in his own home. Not in front of the little ones at least. And after seeing how talkative the twins were, I could understand why.

"I may have had most of my life to practice," he agreed. "But, my brain isn't wired for being right handed. It's like only being able to carry a tune in a bucket, I may be able to sing, but it won't be good."

"So you can use your right hand, just not well." I shook my head. Comparing hands to songs, not something I would have thought of.  "Seriously Jake, you need to get out of here." How could he have put up with it for so long before now, I have no idea. I would have begged my parents to move the first chance I got.

"Oh, I plan to." He muttered. "As soon as possible."

Catchya on the Flip Side!

Danny