A cupcake too many

by Katie on July 9, 2012

This morning, we had a household debate. Just a normal old day around here, really.

The subject in question?

The person at fault for Brandon’s brand new, but already washed, blue jeans not fitting.

Never mind the fact that I requested for two days he try on the two new pairs of pants (that he had me purchase in the exact same style/size as a few he already owned) before I washed them. Which he refused to do and insisted I just wash last night so he could wear them today.  I mean, in my mind, that very clearly depicts the person at fault.

Brandon’s mind, however, is an entirely different story. (On many levels, but we’ll settle for this one today.)

When he said the pants not fitting was my fault, he wasn’t even talking about the whole “now we’ve washed them and can’t return them concept” – he was referring to my cupcakes.

You see, I got a little inkling for a cupcake yesterday evening. So I made a batch. A batch meaning I mixed up a yellow cake mix we had probably had on hand for oh, let’s say, six months. Anyone who has ever dealt with boxed cake mix cupcakes knows that a “batch” equals 24 cupcakes. Or, in cases of people like me who tend to fill the cups a little too full, you’re talking in the 18-20 range.

A sufficient amount of baked goods for a household of two, certainly. But we have things like this around our house once in a blue moon (we’re normally too busy overfilling our Blue Bell ice cream bowls to need any baked goods). I’m not a big baker, and we just don’t need it, so my guess on the last time I made cupcakes is probably sometime within the past twelve months.

All of that needless background to say, we had 19 cupcakes cooling on the counter when Brandon got in from work yesterday evening. I – the person who had wanted a cupcake to begin with – was holding out until after I had eaten my slice of homemade pizza for supper.

Brandon? There is no “holding out” when it comes to him and baked goods. Before I knew it, he had frosted (himself, impressive) and consumed two cupcakes. A third followed close behind. All before supper.

I selected and enjoyed my single cupcake for the day after my meal.

And then he proceeded to ask me all night why I had made “all those” cupcakes, knowing he would just eat all of them. I tried to introduce the concept of self control to him. He wasn’t having it.

Fast forward to this morning, when he put on his new pants for the first time, and all the blame was placed on me and my cupcakes.

We haven’t had any cupcakes in our house at all since the whole Halloween thing last fall. And I don’t recall forcing him to eat three cupcakes within fifteen minutes. And, I didn’t scoop up his ice cream bowl to overflowing earlier that day, either.

I’m having a very difficult time finding how any of this is my fault. But I’m sure it’s just me.


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