Today is my SIL's birthday, so we set the Barbie cake alight and crossed our fingers that she wouldn't go up in flames.
With fire extinguisher nearby, we were relieved that we didn't transform an innocent birthday celebration into a Barbie BBQ, and afterward, Norah was relieved to finally pry her Barbie free from her fondant prison.
The cake, however, was a metaphor for beauty itself -- sometimes it really is just skin deep -- because...ummm...blech! The actual cake part was edible, but the frosting and fondant were Richy Rich. The sugar levels that were present in both were only tolerable by the kids; for the adults, we picked at it and then ended up pitching most of it in the garbage.
Sorry, Barbie, like most girls who emerge from birthday cakes, your use was superficial.
With some sugar pumping through their veins post-cake, the kids each took turns attempting to bench press one another and then crashed.
Maybe if I'd had some more of that fondant, my evening run would've been a little better. Instead, I felt like I slogged through my 3 miles. It's day #17 of my baby running streak, and while I was pumped with enthusiasm about it at the beginning of the week, by today, I was simply dragging and just did my bare minimum. Eh, some days that's how the running goes, right?