The Scariest Halloween Ever

It was Halloween morning and I was in my son’s room, changing his diaper. The Little Man was in a pleasant mood having had a good night’s sleep and a big breakfast. He was smiling, babbling, and being all kinds of cute, distracting me completely from everything else that was going on.

If I’d just been paying a little more attention, I might have thought longer about the fact that my sister-in-law had just pulled up outside our house and she had come from the wrong direction. When she came inside, I overheard Hubbie mention that he’d thought she’d said her fiancé (hahaha, I know how much she’ll hate me using that word) was coming too – but strangely, she had arrived alone.

I didn’t think about it though, I didn’t question what was going on. I was just happily doing my own thing, tickling my Little Man and making him laugh as I finished cleaning him up and redressing him. Sometimes I am so naïve and much too trusting.

My head was down as I walked out of his bedroom, dirty diaper in hand. My Hubbie (yes, he was involved by now in the conspiracy too) casually asked if I’d seen what was outside? He sounded so excited, I thought for sure I was about to see something pretty or funny or cool. I was sooooo wrong.

Peering through my living room window, its giant, distorted head just above the level of my couch, was an evil bunny. Have you seen the movie, Donnie Darko? Remember Frank the Bunny? Well, he was standing right outside my house, staring straight at me. You might be starting to make some connections here between this incident and the Evil Bunny statue (click here for a refresher) that my sister-in-law likes to move around the outside of my house and position so that he’s peering in my windows (yes, same sister-in-law). That Evil Bunny figurine is only about 9 inches tall though. What I was now looking at was a full-size, 7 foot, psychotic-looking bunny who had definitely caught me by surprise.

None of us were prepared for my reaction.

I screamed bloody-murder; the sound even scared me a little. I don’t remember doing this, but my traitor-of-a-husband and sadistic-sister-in-law assure me that I launched the dirty diaper in my hand into the air (narrowly missing my poor Little Man) and dove back into his bedroom like I was being shot at. I curled up into a ball on the ground beside the change-table and my whole body instantly started shaking. Even though I already realized that Frank the Bunny must really be my sister-in-law’s FIANCE in his Halloween costume and that this was all some kind of prank, I was still scared $hitless. I tried really hard to laugh but I was so scared I could hardly move or talk and tears were already uncontrollably sliding down my face.

My sister-in-law was horrified, I think they all were. It obviously wasn’t very funny. I have to admit though, it became funnier later once I saw the Frank the Bunny costume from a distance and was prepared for it. Watching my Hubbie organize a little photo shoot with Frank the Bunny peering through our windows and posing in our front yard even made me crack a smile too. I even laughed a bit when Hubbie described how he’d looked out the window when his sister first arrived and had seen Frank the Bunny walking slowly down the street towards our house along the neat sidewalk in a fairly quiet neighborhood at ten in the morning. I wonder what our neighbors think of us now?

Anyway, today was a Halloween I will NEVER forget. I guess the prank ended up working out because we’re all laughing about it now and not only did they manage to scare me but I got to scare all of them too!

Hope you all had a safe and happy Halloween!

Suzi

The Cake that Everyone Ate but No One Ever Saw

My son recently turned one and for some inexplicable reason, I decided that I was going to bake and decorate his first birthday cake. I guess I forgot that I am not actually a baker and that maybe, just maybe, preparing a birthday cake might be harder than it looks. But I had this image of myself stuck in my mind, proudly carrying out a beautiful, delicious cake that everyone would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over - and I was addicted to the idea.

Let me describe my son’s birthday cake to you. Picture a two layer, light and fluffy, organic, vanilla-banana cake that is in the shape of a dump truck. Between the two layers is a thin, sweet layer of pureed, fresh, organic blueberries. The whole cake is iced with smooth, creamy, vanilla, butter-cream frosting. The wheels of the dump truck are slices of orange and the design of the dump truck is neatly outlined in blueberries. It looks perfect. It tastes even better than it looks.

This is the cake that I imagined. Unfortunately, this is not the cake that I made.

The day before my son’s birthday I baked two beautiful, golden brown, organic, vanilla-banana cakes that were shaped like dump trucks. I wish I took pictures of them because they were gorgeous. I was so confident that the dream cake was about to become a reality. Apparently I lie to myself very well.

On the day of my son’s birthday, I waited until he was down for his nap before I began assembling the cake. Things went downhill fast.

First I put too much blueberry puree on the first layer, so it oozed down the sides in a sticky, unappetizing mess. Then I went to put the second layer on top and realized I’d put the puree on the wrong side of the bottom layer. In order to see the dump truck design on the cake, I had to put the top layer on the wrong way but then the edges of the two layers didn’t line up. Then I went to take the icing out the fridge (I had so cleverly made it up an hour before hand) and realized it had started to harden and was a chunky, unspreadable mess. I tried to spread it anyway. I was in total and complete denial.

After I finished smearing on the icing, I took a step back to examine my handiwork. I took a moment to debate whether to laugh or cry. Images of myself throwing the whole thing in the garbage can ran through my mind. I wondered if I bought a cake from the grocery store, if I could get away with taking credit for it? Then I remembered what an awful liar I am (except, of course, to myself). Next came the images of my family and in-laws holding back their laughter while I shame-facedly carried out the monstrous birthday cake. Nope, there was no way I could do that either.

So what did I decide to do? I couldn’t quite suck up my pride enough to laugh at myself, and I was too stubborn to give up and cry. So I cut that mother up.

The carefully sliced and served pieces actually looked pretty tasty sitting on the blue ‘1st Birthday’ paper plates I’d purchased. My fridge was filled with 14 pre-cut pieces of cake, all ready to be served and covered carefully with saran wrap.

I did have the sense of mind though to realize that there was a small chance, I might think this was funny later. I was home alone at the time and therefore had no one to bare witness to my shame. My pride is small and flexible enough though that I was able to pull out my camera and take a couple quick shots of the first birthday cake I’d ever baked and iced all by myself. At the time I swore to myself that no one was ever going to see those photos. But let’s face it - it’s pretty funny.

And so I present to you, the cake that no one saw.