Your Aunt Caki made you cupcakes for your second birthday – there was a cluster of white frosted cupcakes in the center that were powdered with graham cracker crumbs, meant to look like a sandy beach . . . and surrounding them, several blue frosted cupcakes with gummy fish in them.
So we’ve been eating these cupcakes for a while, and actually using them as a way to bribe your brother into eating more. And since he gets one after dinner at night, you do, too. A few nights ago, I plopped a graham cracker cupcake down on your high chair tray. You looked at it for a moment, puzzled, and then said (with great consternation) “not THIS one. I want the one with fruit snacks on it.”
I suppose one day you may read this and think “big deal,” but kid, it was hilarious. Because you are so small. You shouldn’t really be talking much yet – you should maybe be putting two words together to make simple sentences. Yet here you are, telling us exactly what kind of cupcake you expect – telling us that the “water is BEHIND the trees” as we drive past a lake that is suddenly, yes, blocked by a row of trees. You are a sharp kid, but still a two-year old. You just happen to be an extremely verbal two year old – so we are getting an interesting window into how a two-year-old mind works. And it’s pretty funny, I suppose because it’s so simple and direct (and demanding). What’s up with this piece of crap cupcake, lady, don’t you know how cupcakes are supposed to be made? With fruit snacks in them, you dumb broad, now go get me a real cupcake and take this abomination out of my sight.