This morning Ella and I stopped by a bakery so I could order her birthday cake for Friday (!). The shop owner was very nice, and offered us a complementary cupcake to sample while I discussed the details of the cake.
At the time, it seemed like a fantastic idea to let her have some of the cupcake, a lovely reward for having to come along with me to set up utilities and do other boring grown-up stuff. I broke off a bite of cupcake for her. Her face lit up. I let her have a few more bites. The sweet little smile turned into a maniacal grin as the sugar hit her system.
To make a not-so-interesting portion of this story short, we left the shop covered in cupcake. I honestly don't know how. I consumed at least half of it and Ella ate a ton, so I'm not sure how an entire cake's worth of frosting and smashed up cupcake got into my clothes, her clothes, her hair, even into my car keys.
We went back to the hotel, where she proceeded to run around with some sort of super-human energy. The dogs huddled under the coffee table in fear. At one point she literally tried to climb up the wall.
Then she discovered the dirty laundry basket, and pulled out a t-shirt and bra. She proceeded to run around some more, holding aloft her new-found treasures like a toddler war-trophy, all while shrieking at the top of her lungs.
Needless to say, I am rethinking my original plan of doing birthday cake after dinner.
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