One of the worst things is being in the middle of The Wire when your husband gets a text from a friend saying it's his birthday, and he hadn't wanted to make any plans, but after all he'd really like it if everyone could meet up at a pub.
It may have been one of the best shows ever, but it just doesn't stack up against emergency-birthday-party-at-a-pub. And what is an emergency party without cupcakes?
So they were made and iced and decorated while Baltimore continued to go to hell in various terrible ways, and then we hit pause and Chase took a plateful to a pub, and I ate one and read my book and went to bed, and the girls had an awesome surprise when they woke up.
It's not even the middle of June and Wren has about 20 new freckles on her face. I remember when she was a new tiny baby and I found her first freckle.
These particular cupcakes lived a short sad life, eaten from the top down, until the icing was gone and -horror- only actual cake was left. Then they were brought inside and set on the corner of the table ("so the ants won't find them and carry them away, Mama") where Ramona quickly sniffed them out and devoured them.
I expect to meet them again pretty soon in the backyard.
No comments:
Post a Comment