Of Midnight Cupcakes and Postcards

The rest of the house is gone to bed, and I am waiting for a batch of red velvet cupcakes to bake. Then I get to wake up early to ice them so that Secunda can take them to her class party. This was sprung on me this afternoon in that way that only 8 year old girls can do, with the cow eyes and the hopeful look and the insouciance that only the young possess. Of course I'd make a treat for class with no notice and no chance to run to the store; and of course I'll do it by myself while you carry the tray into your classroom in the morning with an overblown sense of ownership of the labour taken to create these delectable little bites.

Of course. How could I possibly look into the eyes of my child and say no?

So, here I sit, waiting for the timer to go, releasing me from my doughy sentence, filling that gap with formatting "let's stay in touch" postcards for the little hobbitses to hand out to their friends in that mad, final frenzy of hugs, and awkward adolescent high fives and fist bumps.

Does that make me SuperMum?

No.

But it sure makes me feel like I'm doing right by my kids, contributing to their sense of celebration, and fostering their need to build social connections outside of school. Goodness knows, it will be hard enough to drag them out to the splash park this summer; I can use the help.