Baking cakes at six in the morning is a love affair of a whole different kind, perfectly normal in my snowglobe-universe, and if you shake it today you'll see nonpareils float down through the air instead of glitter. Pearl sugars are my other favorite decorating medium when it comes to kinds of sprinkles, as edible glitter leaves a weird texture on things and you know what? I missed my calling. I should have been a cake boss.
I am a cake boss, of here anyway, but mostly when it comes to eating.
Tonight's dinner is a surprise but a solid favorite and something I can make. Tonight's dinner is a relief after the lack of contact last night left everyone breathing easier, no longer concerned that I may return in tears with my other ear bitten half-off, no longer tense and clipped with each other as olive branches are easier to eat than betrayals. They are less tough with no hard outer shell to crunch through. They digest, as it were and for the time being everyone is jovial and kind. Brotherly, even.
Which is sad to say because brothers are brothers no matter what, except for in this family, where the moniker of Brother is bestowed and kept only if you make Bridget happy.
But I don't fault him for that. He's really doing his best.
Stay in bed, Bridget. I'll make it worth your while. He's kissing bees again. He's named them all. Beauregard, Wyatt, Luke. Butch. Butler. Will. Earl. Cowboy names.
They're all boys?
They're all worker bees, and you are their queen.
Oh my God, that's so cheesy, Locket.
Cheesy-bees?
Are you drunk?
No, I'm tired. Why are we up at six in the morning to bake cakes for the Devil again? Dinner's not til seven tonight.
They need time to cool.
HE needs time to cool.
Hey.
Yes?
Not today. Let's make today nice.
I wish he'd step in a swarm of be-
Lochlan!
I am a cake boss, of here anyway, but mostly when it comes to eating.
Tonight's dinner is a surprise but a solid favorite and something I can make. Tonight's dinner is a relief after the lack of contact last night left everyone breathing easier, no longer concerned that I may return in tears with my other ear bitten half-off, no longer tense and clipped with each other as olive branches are easier to eat than betrayals. They are less tough with no hard outer shell to crunch through. They digest, as it were and for the time being everyone is jovial and kind. Brotherly, even.
Which is sad to say because brothers are brothers no matter what, except for in this family, where the moniker of Brother is bestowed and kept only if you make Bridget happy.
But I don't fault him for that. He's really doing his best.
Stay in bed, Bridget. I'll make it worth your while. He's kissing bees again. He's named them all. Beauregard, Wyatt, Luke. Butch. Butler. Will. Earl. Cowboy names.
They're all boys?
They're all worker bees, and you are their queen.
Oh my God, that's so cheesy, Locket.
Cheesy-bees?
Are you drunk?
No, I'm tired. Why are we up at six in the morning to bake cakes for the Devil again? Dinner's not til seven tonight.
They need time to cool.
HE needs time to cool.
Hey.
Yes?
Not today. Let's make today nice.
I wish he'd step in a swarm of be-
Lochlan!