When Hannah was about two, she got into a little bit of trouble.
I found her one afternoon, standing at the open door of the fridge, eating fistfuls of cake.
From a seven-layer, made-from-scratch, five-hours-worth-of-my-life cake.
[Okay, maybe it was only a two-layer cake. I exaggerate.]
But it took a really long time to make, and was resting comfortably in the fridge for the Husband's birthday celebration that night.
That is, until baby girl got to it:
[Not the actual photo. I am sure I was too busy yelling and squawking to actually pull out the camera and document the crime. But you get the general idea - a happy, guilty, adorable chocolate face.]
So, last weekend, when my three children worked together to make a cake, I laughed really hard when we all discovered that someone had done this:
[No, it wasn't me. ]
It was someone who's name rhymes with Bosh. Also known as the Flusband.
I think it's one of those full-circle moments that make parenting worthwhile, don't you?