Psychosis

I am writing to ask for your help. If you ever---EVER---hear the phrase, “I think I’ll make those cute scarecrow cupcakes,” come out of my mouth; I want you to stop me. I want you to remind me that I stood in the kitchen for four hours making a big mess and 17 cupcakes.

When Alex was in Jr. Preschool, his class studied scarecrows. I was eager to be involved in the classroom and found the perfect baking project on the cover of a Fall Baking Guide some nut job published. They showed adorable scarecrow cupcakes that didn’t have a lot of icing work.

I don’t have a good history when it comes to working with icing. It never turns out the way I want it to, which is precisely what the picture looks like. Once I get an image in my head, it better look exactly like that or I fall apart. These cupcakes used Shredded Wheat and had Chinese noodle hair. I could do that!

It was a nightmare and they turned out looking like this guy.

Plus, what kid wants to eat Shredded Wheat on a cupcake?!

I suffered from a bout of insanity/amnesia this week and offered to make them for Meredith’s preschool class. They aren’t even studying scarecrows for crying out loud.

I started the project around 1:00 p.m. and dinner will be late to the table because I stood in sugar squishing spice drops flat so I could give the scarecrows hats. Of course the only icing used for decorating is that gel stuff which is less controllable than a cat that can drive.

After putting Meredith down for a nap, I swore, whined, and called Kelly’s answering machine and told her if I ever mentioned these cupcakes again, she’s to have me committed.

I’m completely serious. Hold me to it. I’m hanging up my spice drop hat.