Sweet, sweet messes

This weekend, my husband and son left to spend some time together.  My daughter and I had gone by a new cupcake place earlier in the week to try it out.  She had noticed the flyer almost as soon as I did--the Grand Opening was on Saturday and there would be frosting shots (huh???), cupcake samples, and a frosting fight.

Frosting fight?  At high noon???

The more we talked about it, the more psyched my kid was.  The idea of throwing frosting at anybody and everybody within reasonable distance resonated with her.  I should have realized that actually, the idea of throwing frosting at ME was what resonated with her, but I chose to live in denial.  It's a more comfortable place to be.

So we headed out on Saturday morning in our old clothing.  We ran errands and stopped for some lunch at a nearby Mexican place (awesome, by the way--I miss Mexican from Oklahoma but this is almost as good!).  Anyway, we got to the cupcake shop with ten minutes to spare.

The place was hopping.  It was hard to tell who was picking up orders, buying cupcakes, or there anticipating the joy of smearing frosting on a loved one.  I had brought my cell phone with me to capture some wonderful candid shots of my sweet (literally) child covered in frosting.  We waited excitedly for the big twelve-oh-oh to arrive.

And finally it did.  We live in an urban area, so the owner of the cupcake store led us through a tiny alley with broken glass and wire to a larger, mostly empty parking lot.  She then had everyone gather around the vat of frosting and passed out plastic spoons.  I stood back, messing with my phone, convinced I'd get a great shot of my kid covered in frosting and laughing hysterically.

I did get the shot.  She had frosting all over her jeans and her shirt, in her hair, as she approached me with a huge grin on her face sporting a giant spoonful of frosting, and as the air split with my cry of "NOOOO!", it landed--SPLAT!--on my shirt.  By the second shot the phone was in my pocket and I was running for the spoons.

My kid plays to win.  I got a few good shots at her, a couple in her hair and one on her elbow, before she took an entire handful and covered my face.  The next handful went through my freshly-washed hair, making me look like a younger Marge Simpson.  By the time the fight was done, it was clear to everyone fighting who the loser was.  Yep, you're reading her work.

I hadn't laughed so hard in a long, long time.

To make things sweeter, the owner gave everyone who participated a giant cupcake.  Yep, that's them, in the picture above.  My daughter chose peanut butter oreo, and I, a sucker for almond, chose Almond I Do.  It reminded me a lot of my wedding cake, which was a sweet, sweet memory too.

Two showers later we were clean but still laughing about our morning.

I remember a commercial awhile back where a mom shook up a soda bottle and shot it all over her kid.  They were both laughing hysterically, and at the time I thought that had to be the stupidest commercial I had ever seen.  Who in the world would want to clean orange soda off their cabinets, their floor, their refrigerator?  Sheesh.

But given the right circumstances (outside), sometimes it's worth taking the chance.  Playing with my daughter using frosting was the best thing we've done together in a long time.

And the rewards later?  Yeah.  They were really, really sweet.