Quick breads are a friend and foe. Friend as they are made quickly, and foe, well, because I eat them almost as quickly as they bake up. A lone loaf of banana bread lasts about a day in this house. Sitting out on the counter, calling out to be eaten, I cave like a house of cards.
Hey, you, yeah you. Watch’cha doin? Come here baby, yeah, you look nice, why don’t you try some of this ah? C’mon. Just try me baby, ain’t no harm come of it. Oh, you’re waiting for dinner? I don’t see no dinner here? If dinner really cared about you he’d be here for you now, right? But where’s he at? Who’s here for you baby. Me, that’s who.
Knowing my track record with baked goods, I opted to share this week’s FFWD deliciousness with the ladies in my mommy group. I knew they could take some of
gluttony, pressure away. That was the plan anyhow. Strength in solidarity.
Sadly, the threat of snow, and sick cutie-pies kept most of the moms and tots at home, leaving me to stand up for myself against sly and the family carbload with a limited posse. I could tell they too were struggling with the laws of attraction. So wrong, yet so right. Wow, this is good. One said. Where’d you get the recipe, said another.
When play group ended only a dent was made. The plate, now covered in a quasi barrier of plastic wrap sat on the kitchen counter.
I’ll see you tomorrow, huh tootsie.
Be strong Crowe, I whispered to myself. But I knew I’d be slathering a slice with tomato jam on my way out the door to work the next morning.