I recently attended a friend's princess themed birthday party. It being her third ever, I felt a little out of place, or "tall." Noticing my discomfort, the girl's mother said that she expected the experience to end up on my blog. I smiled politely, my mind already racing for humorous titles (The Princess and the Pee in the Pool? Go Shorty, It's Your Birthday? It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To Because I'm a Toddler?). But deep down I didn't really think it would make the cut. Deep down I also felt queasy from pink cupcakes.
A week after, I found myself house and dog sitting for the same family. Coming back to the large, empty, dark house after a matinee showing of
No Country for Old Men, I fully expected to meet some horrible fate inside. It was then that I found this:
Once part of the birthday cake, it is now part of my nightmares.
