Cupcakes, you are but bundles of happiness in a cup. I love thee, cupcakes.
So today I am baking cupcakes for the boy to bring to school tomorrow, on his eight birthday. I decided to make them from scratch.
This has nothing to do with the fact that I am a wonderful super duper mommy, and everything to do with the fact that I kept putting off getting a cake mix and now I don’t feel like going to the store. Except I have to go anyway, because I don’t have any icing. But I know that if I wait until this afternoon to do the baking, well, little Bill might be taking in a batch of the Giant bakery cupcakes to school. (Which, there is nothing wrong with. Don’t email me.)
So anyway, I’m separating my eggs, and I’m mixing my ingredients, and I’m dancing around the kitchen. And I’m just thinking how wonderful these cupcakes are going to be. You know, because they’re from scratch.
I put the first batch in.
I took the first batch out.
You know how the cupcakes-from-a-box just pop right out of the tins?
Yes. That’s why people buy them.
Because the scratch cupcakes? They do not seem to be popping right out of the tins too much.
They are coming out all misshapen, and are not fit to send to school.
So I have to eat them.
Do you know what the worst part about it is? They don’t even taste that good. How can they not taste good? They are from scratch. They have to taste good. Don’t they?
This is what I get for feeling lazy. And then trying to be all supermom about it.