My mom’s name is Katt. My aunt Cindy’s favorite animal is the cat. It made sense that, for Mother’s Day, I would make cupcakes with cat faces.It’s not like I didn’t know my limitations. I knew I had to keep it simple. I had to keep it to something that I knew I could do, as a first-timer, but it would still look good. How hard could putting cat faces on cupcakes be?
What I wanted:
What I ended up with:
What is this?
No, seriously, what is this? Is that a voice bubbble? A brain with a stem?
Or is that a brain with a stem? Or a spine?
A heart with an emo haircut?
An epileptic dog having a seizure?
Asian character writing?
This teen is just so embarrassed to be seen in this post omg
This is either a weird K or a horribly off-target swastika.
The world’s angriest hair clog.
I knocked on Mom and Dad’s bedroom door. Mom answered.
“Mother,” I said, “Despite all appearances, I actually love you.”
This was such a curious thing to say that Mom and Dad came downstairs to investigate the cupcakes. “They looked fine when I went upstairs,” she said. Then she saw the cupcakes, and I’m pretty sure she was trying to hold in laughter.
“It was the thing I was using to make the black lines!” I said. “I didn’t know it would come out all curly! I’m sorry!”
I recounted my struggles with the decorative icing, and Dad pointed out his favorite cupcakes. “That one looks like Japanese writing,” he said.
Mom picked up one of the little clay figurines from off of the counter. It was one of those little clay bowls they make you make in elementary school. It was bright yellow with eyes pointed in two directions and a vague attempt at a nose. “Look at this,” she said. “Do you think I would keep this around if I didn’t love it?”
“No,” I said.
She picked up another one, a light teal bowl this time, made of rings that barely lined up. “Or this one,” she said. She picked up a third object, this one with a misshapen yellow based and a green pointed head and fingerprint spots everywhere.
“I don’t even know what that is,” I said.
Mom laughed. “Neither do I.”
“It’s Britty,” Dad said.
Mom picked up a brought animal-shaped fourth object from off the microwave.
“That’s Britty,” Dad said.
“I think it’s Hobbes,” I said.
“The point is,” Mom said, “I love everything that you do, no matter what it looks like.”