So tonight "for Valentine's Day" we made a cake, which was cooling on the stove.
I was typing out some posts and almost 5yo comes in. "I tasted the cake, Mommy."
Rushed into the kitchen and this poor sheet cake looked like a nightmare sequence in the off-broadway all-cake version of The Shining.
Five year old: "I'm SO sorry! It was an ACCIDENT!"
update: I'm sorry the title of this post lead some readers to think I actually got mad/punishing over some cake. Once I was over the shock, we FROSTED THE CAKE CRUMBS TOGETHER AND EVEN PUT ON SPRINKLES. People! Don't you KNOW me by now?
There's a name for people who preach to a single mom the joys of living in the fucking MOMENT with three kids. They are called "grandparents." I love you guys and your perspective. Now excuse me while I go clean fruit cocktail off the couch.