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Oh, I was hoping this wouldn’t happen. But it has. There was a FB posting recently about cupcakes that look like poop. Now, since Gill suffers from Crohn’s disease, poop is a regular topic of conversation around here. Plus, we have dogs and birds so have a constant supply that needs to be scooped, washed, or composted. Most people think the discussion of poop is gross, but our standards are low and a large part of our day is spent dealing with shit –in one form or another.

Gill, of course, saw the cupcake post. The first words out of her mouth were:”Yes! We are making these for Christmas! Get ready, people.”

The online discussion continued with many comments. I couldn’t resist putting in my two cents’ worth so I pointed out to Gill that it appears she has forgotten our disastrous attempt at making beagle cupcakes for her birthday when she lived here. I had made the mistake of buying her (as a joke) an entire book on cupcakes. Now Gill is correct when she says that it was foolish of me to do since, knowing her, she would want to put the book into action and make cupcakes. I did know that but perhaps I was hoping, just once, she wouldn’t take me up on what was at the same time a happy picture book and an impossible challenge.

The cupcakes (or more accurately, the decorating of the cupcakes) required several trips to many stores to find the candy bits, marshmallows and toothpicks required for the construction of the beagles. If we  were unable to find the precise candy listed in the instructions, we improvised. Well, I did. Gill was aghast that I was so willing to make substitutions without putting up a fight.

“You do remember, don’t you dear, that when you were kids, all I did was make substitutions when it came to food. You three were so allergic I had to substitute water for milk, honey for sugar, carob for chocolate, tasteless for yummy!”

We tried…we really did. By the time we got to Beagle #9, we were making progress and the cupcakes bore some slight resemblance to a dog…not necessarily a beagle, but we were at least in the correct species. As I recall, the heads kept sliding off the bodies, the ears ended up at particularly jaunty (and mismatched)angles, and the eyes were so far apart on the heads that the beagles had a surprised expression…or perhaps they were pretending to be owls with their ability to see all around them…I don’t know.

At any rate, the experiment was a disaster. When I reminded her on FB about our less-than-sterling performance, she, ever hopeful, commented:”But those were complicated beagles, Ma.” (Having had two live beagles as family members, my only retort was:”What beagle isn’t complicated?”

Gill insists that even we (her words, not mine) could make the poopcakes. Oh, how wrong she is! But my skepticism will be ignored. Gill has her heart set on visiting the new “Poop Cafe” in Toronto and dragging everyone with her. Then, when she’s finished that, she will demand that we go for Round #2 in ‘how not to make a cupcake’…probably on Christmas Eve when I’m frantically trying to wrap gifts, fill stockings, or drink enough Bailey’s to get me through the night. All I need is a kitchen table filled with cupcakes, bowls of icing and chocolate dribs and drabs oozing onto the table. Sigh…once a kid, always a kid I guess.

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