Why there are cupcakes baking in my oven.

Early Monday morning, Chris left out of here to go to Dallas for some training and he's on his way back home as I type this. This is not, however, the reason there are cupcakes currently baking in my oven. Those of you who know me well know that I'm not a baker, so unless there's something major going on, I ain't baking. I'm glad Chris is coming home and all, don't get me wrong, but it's hardly a cupcake event, right?

Anyhow, the kids get it into their mind that they are going to throw Chris a welcome home party. Maddie gets out the construction paper, crayons, and tape and they get busy making a banner to hang up. She asks me for one of Chris's favorite CD's to have playing, and they've been busy practicing yelling, "Surprise!"

In the midst of all these happy preparations, Izzy ran upstairs and asked me if I could put the coconut milk in a big plastic bowl that he could take downstairs. See yesterday, I bought some ginger ale, coconut milk and grenadine to make them special drinks to celebrate our last night just the five of us. (Perhaps my sense of what's celebration worthy is a little skewed.) I also bought them a pack of 12 mini cupcakes that were on clearance or $1.50. Because I'm all generous like that. The kids were thrilled and ate two a piece, leaving six for today.

Anyhow, so after I nixed the idea of sending down a big bowl of coconut milk punch, Izzy spied the cupcakes and asked if he could take them downstairs for the party too. Sure, I tell him, as long as they don't eat them before Daddy gets home. He grabs them up and runs downstairs, excitedly telling them that he had cupcakes for their party!

A little while later, I'm in the sunroom putting a new picture frame on the windowsill when Izzy comes upstairs and says, "Mommy? Where are you mommy?"

I giggle to myself and tip toe over in front of Sophie's dollhouse and I crouch down and wait for him to get closer. "Mommy?," he says.

"BOO!," I scream and jump out in front of him.

He screams and throws his hands up in the air. One of said hands was holding the box of cupcakes. Which the children had not resealed. Yep, five cupcakes flew wildly through the air.

He looked down at the box holding one lone mini cupcake and screamed in fury. Then the tears started. Then he looked at me and screamed, "YOU UGLY! YOU STINKY! YOU MONKEY!"

I can't help but laugh a little because I've never seen him rendered so furious that he can't string together a proper insult, although really, I call them stinky little monkeys as a term of endearment.

So anyhow, now my timer's going off. And now you know why.