That’s been my theme since Wednesday. All I wanted was a cupcake. I baked them – they tasted like garbage (pretty much how they turn out every time I try to make them). So, I bought some. Yummy, moist, delectable little cakes of joy. Twelve cupcakes in a package – I’ve had four of them.
I decide today to finish cleaning out my closet (which happens to turn out more like burying myself in chaos) when the kids go down for nap/quiet time. Turn up the monitor, and get to work. Stop every twenty minutes or so to peek in on the kids, because Mason rarely sleeps on days when Kaleb is home. Then, catastrophe. Complete cupcake catastrophe.
I pop my head in to check on my Monsters, and I see white smears on Mason’s carpet. I think, oh no, he’s sick. No. He is not sick. He is covered in my delectable cakes of joy. I see two wrappers on the floor, and I think how?? How could he reach them?? Then it dawns on me – he couldn’t. And I checked his room this time – I know he didn’t sneak any off before nap time anyway. Kaleb. That sneaky snook!
I walk back to Kaleb’s room, and what do I find him doing? Dancing around in his underwear with an empty cupcake case while his little orchestra plays music. Victory music. I’m flabbergasted. And I briefly consider throwing the two-year-old temper tantrum that is welling up inside of me. Kaleb looks over, sees me, drops the cupcake container, and goes flying into his bed. I still just stand there. My brain is stalled.
What do I do with this?? Take away his coloring utensils and withhold paper for a week? Probably ineffective as we have paper and pens all over this house. Take the orchestra. Still stand there staring, haven’t been able to squeak out any words yet. Then it comes to me. You clean this mess. Ha! Brilliant. I hereby sentence you to…
- Clean your room.
- Clean Mason’s room.
- Vacuum the cupcake crumbs off the floor of both rooms (now I’m not that nuts, I do realize I’m going to have to have a hand in that).
- Give Mason a bath since he is now covered in cupcake (again, I realize I’ll be doing most of the work here).
When I’m done, and he’s staring at me as if my head has just erupted worms, I ask him what he did wrong.
“I made a mess?”
NO! Okay, I mean yes. You made a mess. You made a mess with my cupcakes. You took my cupcakes! – Promptly shut mouth before I start stomping my feet like a child. Walk away. Turn around. Pick up cupcake container and shake it at him in an ineffective showing of anger. Walk away again. Stare sadly and longingly at missing cupcakes.
I miss my cupcakes.
Almost as much as I miss my sanity.