My oldest son turned 12 years old on Sunday. He decided that he wanted a chocolate cake with strawberry frosting. Now before I continue, you need to promise not to make fun of my beautiful cake...keep in mind that I am NOT a baker. Promise?
Okay, so whatever! If you want to see a Martha Stewart cake then go to her website alright.
That's not the point of this story anyway. We were getting ready to sing Happy Birthday when...the phone rang. Okay, stop everything...it's Grandma. The cake can wait!
After an indeterminable amount of time, Back to the Cake!
Oh, But Wait! Something is different. What could it be?
No Momma, It wasn't me.
Then who could it be?
Was it you?
Not me. I don't eat cake.
Oh yes, I should have known...
HE HE HE. It was me all along.
As my 6 foot tall neanderthal of a husband went lumbering through the house after this sweet little devlish face, my oldest son yelled, "It's okay. He just wanted a little taste. I'll eat that piece." We all just laughed.