That's why, whenever I'm having a string of bad parenting moments that are ganging up on me and forming an actual really bad day, I pack the girls up and we head straight over to the local cupcake shop.
(Yep. That's a sprinkles bar. For real.)
Because cupcakes and bad days cannot exist together in the time-space continuum, once we pass over the threshold of the cupcake shop, that bad day CEASES to exist. Stops dead in it's tracks. It's true.
Joy (and parenting solutions) are borne of pain, and we only stumbled upon this a few months ago, after the mean lady at the nationally famous pet store denied our doggies entry to the grooming salon because their pregnant mommy got them there fifteen minutes late. It was the latest in a series of hard, sweaty, taxing moments that week. Two pigtailed little girls and a huge pregnant belly could not sway her. Perhaps hot, pregnant, ridiculous tears could not sway her either. I'm not actually saying I cried. But, I did. I cried. Does it make it better if I say they were the quiet, pretty kind, just streaming down my face like Demi Moore in "Ghost"?
But, when we got in the car, I saw in the very same shopping center, the beloved beacon of light. I declared, "No more!" Go away, bad day. Go away, scary hormonal version of myself. We are heading for that pink awning and the safe harbor of sugary redemption inside.
I heart you, Cupcake Asylum. You never fail me. And you're delicious.
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