We had a church bake off tonight and we're all about to enter diabetic comas. We're not diabetic but what with eating our body weight in cakes and cookies, we probably qualify.
My cake didn't personally win any awards but I think that might have had something to do with the fact that my mom wasn't a judge and, apparently, Shannon received divine intervention in the baking of her chocolate cheesecake. I'm not even kidding. All you had to do was cut into that cake and the Hallelujah chorus rang out.
More bake offs. They make me happy. They make my husband happy. They make my toddler extremely happy. I know you're all mad at me because I let my child have sugar but it's not like I feed it to him by the spoonful. I'm pretty sure I was allowed to have a cookie here and there as a child and I turned out alright. In fact, I wasn't even a sugar addict until that kid took over my body and it started being all, "Feed me sugar! Come on, it's for the fetus. It's not you who wants it, feed the kid an entire Costco cake!" Truthfully, I'm praying for another baby with the hopes that it will hate sugar and get me out of this obsession. If I ever get pregnant again, the second that pee stick gets two lines I'm going to start dumping salt down my throat at an alarming rate. "We like salt new embryo," I will say, "Sugar is very bad. Salt is where it's at. Right? Please."