If you told me I’d be driving myself home tonight, my hair caked with vanilla buttercream icing, I would’ve thought you were crazy.
But you’d be spot on. Because I did just drive myself home, with a head full of cake.
It was my fault, I suppose. In the process of cutting the celebratory cake at a party, my eye was drawn to a pile of icing on the plate. A big pile of white icing.
My mind immediately thought, ‘That’s a perfect pile of icing to smear on someone….”
But I resisted the temptation. Until Angelica encouraged me to express my inner desires. And that when I got mischevious.
I scooped up a big pile and walked over to John-John. I intended to nicely smear the tip of his nose – easy clean up, you know.
But when he saw me coming, he ducked out of the way. So I turned to my left and saw Frank standing there all nice and clean and unsuspecting. So I swiped a forefinger of icing across his cheek. He laughed.
And that’s when it hit me. A fistful of cake from John-John right on the top of my head. Low blow – creaming a girl in the hair. There’s just no easy clean up for that. So I turned, aimed, and launched a glob of icing though the air which landed right in his hippie ponytail.
Then it was WAR! After a few volleys of icing, the war was over. John-John retreated to repair my sunglasses which had broken in the scuffle (ironic he felt bad about the glasses but not mucking up my beautiful hair!).
Later, when John-John was talking to friends with his hands stuffed in his pants, I walked up and swipe a streak of icing across his cheek and licked my finger.
“Oh. I’m sorry, but I only got your cheek. Let me get you a napkin.”
I fetched a napkin, which just happened to be right next to the cake, and grabbing a second fingerful of icing, I walked back to John-John, offered him the napkin, then swiped his other cheek with icing.
The good news: I now know where my boys get their impishneess from.
The bad news: I could taste John-John on my finger when I licked it.