and how I love you this unreasonable amount.
Duncan Hines confetti cupcake mix smells like plastic after you add three eggs, 1 and 1/4 cups water and a tablespoon of oil.
I laid out a couple muffin tins and lined them with pink and blue cupcake liners. Poured mix in - halfway in each cup - and came up with exactly the 24 yield the box said it would make.
I put two muffin tins in the oven, side by side. These little baby cupcakes.
My little baby is turning six years old next week.
Last week, for Mismatch Day, I employed a pair of her pajama bottoms. They're shorts, and they're yellow - with a print. With some striped pants. And she wore her shirt backwards. Her socks were different colors.
She looked in the mirror with a satisfied smile. She turned and looked at herself from the back. She wiggled her butt. And I topped it all off with a glittery pink headband.
Tonight, she frowned when I asked her how Mismatch Day went. She said, "I didn't look like everyone else. And Aubrey and Caitlynn said I can't wear pajamas to school but the teacher wasn't mad."
I said, "Sorry, baby, I thought you looked cute."
She put her hand on my arm and raised her eyebrows, shocked expression. "Oh, mom, it's ok. It's ok. It was still a good day, I had a good time."
I have plans to write 24 B's in m&ms on these cupcakes after they come out of the oven. I bought a second box, just in case I fuck up the first one. So all her little kindergarten friends can eat B cupcakes tomorrow.
When we were picking out the frosting, she told me she had to poop. "Mom, like, right now, right now." And we ran toward the bathroom. I threw my stuff down at an empty register and told a nearby cashier we'd be back.
B ran into the bathroom stall and... I said, "Oh, baby." She just closed her eyes and shook her head "no." And then opened her eyes and said, "Momma, where did food come from?"
I leaned against the side of the stall. "It grows outside."
She shook her head, "No, I mean, before houses. Before apartments. Before everything. Where was food?"
I repeated, "It just grows outside. There are plants outside that we can eat that just grow all by themselves-"
She interrupted me - "I think it's Indians!"
I cleaned the kitchen while she colored on her dry erase board. "Momma, when are you gonna get fired from work? Momma, how did you learn to drive a car? Momma, why do I have to be a kid? Momma, why can grownups do whatever they want?"
She took a bath. I dryed her off and put lotion everywhere. Her skin gets so dry in the winter. She brushed her teeth... climbed into bed... we read about a woman and her pig... I sang the Mary Poppins Lullabye and You Are My Sunshine. Kissed her forehead. Started on these cupcakes.
I laid out a couple muffin tins and lined them with pink and blue cupcake liners. Poured mix in - halfway in each cup - and came up with exactly the 24 yield the box said it would make.
I put two muffin tins in the oven, side by side. These little baby cupcakes.
My little baby is turning six years old next week.
Last week, for Mismatch Day, I employed a pair of her pajama bottoms. They're shorts, and they're yellow - with a print. With some striped pants. And she wore her shirt backwards. Her socks were different colors.
She looked in the mirror with a satisfied smile. She turned and looked at herself from the back. She wiggled her butt. And I topped it all off with a glittery pink headband.
Tonight, she frowned when I asked her how Mismatch Day went. She said, "I didn't look like everyone else. And Aubrey and Caitlynn said I can't wear pajamas to school but the teacher wasn't mad."
I said, "Sorry, baby, I thought you looked cute."
She put her hand on my arm and raised her eyebrows, shocked expression. "Oh, mom, it's ok. It's ok. It was still a good day, I had a good time."
I have plans to write 24 B's in m&ms on these cupcakes after they come out of the oven. I bought a second box, just in case I fuck up the first one. So all her little kindergarten friends can eat B cupcakes tomorrow.
When we were picking out the frosting, she told me she had to poop. "Mom, like, right now, right now." And we ran toward the bathroom. I threw my stuff down at an empty register and told a nearby cashier we'd be back.
B ran into the bathroom stall and... I said, "Oh, baby." She just closed her eyes and shook her head "no." And then opened her eyes and said, "Momma, where did food come from?"
I leaned against the side of the stall. "It grows outside."
She shook her head, "No, I mean, before houses. Before apartments. Before everything. Where was food?"
I repeated, "It just grows outside. There are plants outside that we can eat that just grow all by themselves-"
She interrupted me - "I think it's Indians!"
I cleaned the kitchen while she colored on her dry erase board. "Momma, when are you gonna get fired from work? Momma, how did you learn to drive a car? Momma, why do I have to be a kid? Momma, why can grownups do whatever they want?"
She took a bath. I dryed her off and put lotion everywhere. Her skin gets so dry in the winter. She brushed her teeth... climbed into bed... we read about a woman and her pig... I sang the Mary Poppins Lullabye and You Are My Sunshine. Kissed her forehead. Started on these cupcakes.