It’s on like Donkey Kong.
Or maybe just like Peter Pan.
No Tinkerbells were harmed in the making of this costume. At least that’s what M. and D. tell me.
The lil’ pardner on the left is my brother, P. I’m pretty sure that what I’m thinking here was “Why can’t I be the one wearing the cool leather chaps?”
Apparently I’m not the only one who’s jealous of P.’s costume.
B. took one look at that shiny, fringed leather and proclaimed himself the new sheriff in town.
Who am I to judge?
I think the power went to his head, though: A. and I have been respecting B.’s authoritay for 11 years now, but once he had a badge to flash, things got really ugly. I was five minutes late to breakfast and I received a fine, a citation, and an extremely stern talking-to. I haven’t paid a ticket that pricey since the Great Treat Shortage of 2009.
Now’s probably a good time to talk about some cake.
I’ve honestly always thought of bundt cakes as dry and kind of gross.
I decided to jazz things up a little:
1. Fresh, roasted pumpkin -insert jazz hands here-
2. Sweet, luscious applesauce -insert spirit fingers here-
3. And a melted, hot chocolate topping -you better be full-on doing the Robot by now-