This is dedicated to Martha Stewart who makes everything kitchen related look super easy and enjoyable.
For those readers that are lucky enough to know me on a personal level, you know that I possess many talents. I'm funny. I'm a clever writer. I'm tall. I'm good at math. I shower semi-regularly.
But there is one thing that I am not known for, and it's my kitchen prowess. It's not that I don't try. But I'm always trying to make things healthy and that usually sabotages my baking efforts.
One of the two things I am able to bake without burning down the house, are corn muffins. They are a fall favorite for the boys. I usually double the recipe and then funnel those suckers down my kids' throats everytime they eek out an "I'M HUNGRY!"
By about day four of the muffins, Big E has started grumbling.
I DON'T WANT ANYMORE MUFFINS!
He's basically morphed into a giant piece of cornbread.
But like any good mother, I'm still pushing those suckers. There are on the clearance rack of my kitchen and I want them gone by the time next season's merchandise arrives.
I gave Big E one of the lingering muffins. He began his complaining but I stopped listening around MOM, I DON'T...
He bit into the muffin and dramatically chewed away at the corny goodness.
Except he started gagging.
THESE TASTE AWFUL!
I chalked it up to him being so over the corn muffins.
I SPENT HOURS AND HOURS BAKING FOR YOU AND ALL YOU DO IS COMPLAIN ABOUT IT! CHEW THAT LAST BITE AND BE DONE.
Big E swallowed and left the table.
I went over to the remaining muffins and decided to freeze them. Maybe my kids will be ready to eat them again by Thanksgiving.
With the gallon ziplock in one hand, I lifted the tupperware top to begin the muffin move. And that's when I saw it.
MOLD. ON ALL THE MUFFINS.
I forced my kid to eat mold.
I felt awful. I just thought he was being dramatic, like the time I made him organic chicken nuggets from scratch and he complained because they weren't like the Chick-Fil-A ones. But he was being for real. They probably did taste awful. But like any good, seasoned mom, I didn't tell him. I didn't need to give him any more fuel for the therapy fire.
May it forever be known as the MOLD DOME.