The backstory: I'm a fan of quality, homemade food. I'm the annoying sort of mama who teaches her child that "corporate cookies" (the ones found in grocery stores) should be looked down upon. I've taught JT that the best cookies come from your mama's kitchen. And this week, JT's birthday week, it was revealed to me that I should have known better.
Mama: Would you like to bring a treat to share with some of your 6th grade friends on your birthday?
JT: Yes. I'd like 47 chocolate ganache cupcakes…one for every kid in the 6th grade.
Mama: Gotcha. Can I take you out to supper for your birthday?
JT: I'd rather you make me fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and homemade biscuits.
Mama: I don't suppose you'd like a bakery birthday cake?
JT (shocked): Won't you make me a homemade cake?
If you need me this week, I'll be in the kitchen.
Haha! That is most certainly the story of my life. Every night when Colby comes home from work I'm in the kitchen, usually barefoot, and he'll make some snide comment about practicing getting me pregnant to complete the "in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant" trifecta. I had to break down and buy some corporate bread. I was just to overwhelmed baking.
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