Shield Your Eyes

I know I have talked about my love of frosting. I heart buttercream so much I can't find the words to describe my feelings. I could spread it on toast and wear it as lipgloss. The only time I've considered getting a dog is when I realized I could possibly name it Buttercream. I love, love, love frosting. To defile it is sacrilegious. I'm pained when I see it abused in any way.

I discovered this desecrated cake while cleaning the kitchen one night. I stood mute while I stared at this horror. Who would do such a thing? Surely not anyone carrying my DNA. I carried this cake pan to each family member until I found a match to the handprint. A lengthy discussion on frosting reverence followed.



This frosting atrocity I simply have no words for. While at a school function she scoured the tables for the darkest frosting possible. I think she found it. When I finally got her to wipe it off her lips, they were stained black. Well deserved.



The twins dug into their birthday treat with delight. Watching the frosting get slathered on their bodies wasn't as hard for me as I thought it was going to be. When I took Riley out of her chair to clean her off, I had to summon all my willpower not to suck the buttercream right off her arms.



This wild child started flinging the frosting. She would crazy shake her hands while frosting went flying. Simply not tolerable. Keagan and I had a little one-on-one discussion. "We do not giggle or fling frosting while we eat cake. Dessert is treated with respect." She took it well.

From here on out I think I'll type up a Frosting Contract. It will require everyone to eat with etiquette and appreciation. If you don't sign, you can not partake. That's my final offer.