Sometime I think I've just got this mom thing going on. I've laid down one of my daughter's favorite dinners (beer-can-up-the-butt roasted chicken, buttermilk mashed potatoes, roasted zucchini with balsamic vinegar glaze, capers, and ricotta salata—on a weeknight), and I'm cheerfully frosting away at cupcakes for the next day's school party to celebrate the upcoming spring break, and then I just totally lose my shit.
Truth be told, I wasn't frosting cheerfully. I was tired and cross. So I needed kind words rather than a dose of reality. I did not react well to receiving the latter.
Martha thought it up, of course.Loooook! It's a butterfly!!
Oh. Well, it doesn't look exactly like a butterfly. . . .
That's because IT'S NOT. It's a fucking CUPCAKE.
Two dozen fucking cupcakes, but who's counting?
Martha thought it up, of course.
Two dozen fucking cupcakes, but who's counting?
3 comments:
They look good to me, and I'm sure Sophie appreciates her Mother's fine efforts. You are an awesome Mom!
Who said that doesn't look like a butterfly - it totally does, and jesus christ, woman, those are awesome! Anyway, I expect Sophie is old enough to deal with the word in that context.
Look, don't get me wrong, but couldn"t you just smack the hell out of those little insulate bastards!! HAHA!! They look like butterflies to me!!
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