If Only I Spoke Their Language
Today before I went to work I told the Tiny Terrorists two things - get dressed and DON'T EAT THE ICE CREAM! What my offspring heard was - Don't bother to change out of your Jammie's and grab a spoon, the ice cream is calling! When I came home for lunch they were still in their night shirts watching cartoons. I discovered that there had been a raid on the ice cream while I was away earning more ice cream money.
Speaking of my slaving away, I shall scream if I have to do another cake with the flag on it. Take a look.
I did all that by hand (that's a full sheet cake, serves about a hundred people), and I did it 5 freaking times! Plus all the orders for today. My hand is as sore as the hand of a 12 year old boy who just discovered masturbation.
I also did this cake.
Curious George. I hate that fucking monkey. He should be put to sleep. Him and that annoying monkey Boots off Dora the Explorer. Stupid fucking monkeys always causing trouble.
I did some others that were damn cool, but I didn't take photos because I was fucking busy and you've seen about a million Fall Leaves cakes.
I've succeeded in teaching my oldest Tiny Terrorists to make me coffee. She's still young and naive, she thinks it's COOL to make my coffee in the morning. I wonder how old she has to be before I can have her make my Margaritas?
Note to self - Hanukkah is early this year, must start planning menu (latkepalooza!) and night with Bruce Willis. Is it too early to start PANICKING???