A few days ago as a gesture of gratitude for holding down the fort, and because he loves me, Paul brought me a homemade red velvet cupcake with a big dollop of some sort of cream cheese frosting on top, from the resident lounge.
“Something special,” he said. “Just for you.”
As he walked up the stairs with it, HH saw it, took it from him and carried it over, holding it up to me yelling, “MAAAAAAAAHM! DADDY BROUGHT YOU A CUPCAKE!”
I bent down and took it from her.
“That is so nice of you to bring that to me, HH! So helpful. Thank you.”
She looked up at me, expectantly.
“I want to stick my finger in it.”
I told her I’d cut it in half and we could share.
I got a plate, cut it in half, and we sat down at the table. She picked up one of the halves and shoved the entire thing into her mouth. I picked up one crumb that she had dropped and ate it, causing her to freeze mid-chew and look up at me with total suspicion. Then I reached to pick up the second half.
She grabbed the plate and pulled it into her chest, cheeks stuffed, red dye smeared across her face, glaring at me, poised for freakout.
I looked at her. “HH…we’re sharing. That half is mine. In fact, the whole thing is mine, I was sharing with you.”
Paul joined in: “That is Mom’s cupcake, she was nice to share it with you. It’s not yours. Give it back.”
Wailing, sobbing, and with her mouth wide open and chewed food flying everywhere, she promptly dropped the other half of the cupcake on the ground. Frosting down.
E, who had been hanging out in the vicinity waiting for something exactly like this to happen, speed-crawled over, and puked on it.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there. I hope you all got something special. Just for you.