Oh well, fork it

After a few dozen pleads for "big cupcakes and little cupcakes" from BigBoy this week, I broke down and decided we'd make some. Our next door neighbor just had a baby so I used taking them some as a partial excuse, but really, when do you need a reason for a cupcake? I know they are fashionable right now, but when did they go OUT of fashion? I mean, come on. Cupcakes are just cake without the need to wash a fork afterward.




BabyCakes supervised as usual. She was a gracious overseer until she realized the food was not for her. That's when my third arm would have come in handy. Baking cupcakes, cooking dinner on the stove, and feeding a baby at the same time? It wasn't as hectic as it sounds. The squeals, whines, hand mixer, and oven timer were like the calming roar of the ocean.





HA! Not.
I'm not THAT mom. My cake mix was from a box and my baby food and pasta sauce started in jars.
I'm that kind of mom.
A ponytail-wearin, chippy-toenail-polish-havin, "Victory in Jesus"-singin-while cookin, barefoot-runnin-to-the-mailbox, kind of mom.




Think BigBoy got enough sprinkles on there? I found a stray one embedded in the bottom of my foot earlier from a sprinkle mishap last night. (We won't go there.)


Earlier today BigBoy simultaneously asked me for a cupcake and tried opening the cake-carrier they were in, and the inevitable sticky disaster ensued.



Oh well. I suppose washing a fork isn't the worst thing in the world.