So yesterday I found a Target box waiting for me at our front door. Shocking because Target boxes never come to our house. Never ever. (I'm saying that just in case Dan ever decides to read this blog. I never buy anything from Target. Never ever.) So yesterday I got a Target box. And in it was this pretty little white cake stand. I have been wanting a cake stand for the past eight months (eight years?) but for some reason never allowed myself to buy one. And yesterday I was reminded why when Dan walked through the door and almost fell over when he saw a cake stand sitting on our dining room table. Something about me not baking enough to own a cake stand. I have no idea what he's talking about. So we made a little bet. And in order for me to win this bet I needed to bake something. Pronto. Like today. And place it on that pretty little white cake stand.
So fresh banana bread on a Tuesday morning was born.
But that's not the cute/sad part of my story. Porter is the cute/sad part of my story. You see, I made banana bread for Porter's after-nap-snack. But P sometimes wakes up early from naps. And you know what's wrong with waking up early from naps, don't you? Well, there are a lot of things wrong with waking up early from naps. But the main thing today was that although the banana bread was done, it was still piping hot. And so, my very patient, very calm, and very sweet little boy had to sit there and ... wait.
And by patient and calm I mean ...
But after a whopping 15.9 seconds of waiting
I said those five magic words
"okay you can eat now"
and he popped up from his chair
and stuck his chubby little finger in that warm banana bread.
And all was right in the world again.
Or at least all was right in Porterville.
And mama gets to keep her cake stand.