Sep 032010
 

There was a bakery box on my desk when I got to work last night. A small yellow post-it was labeled “Chooch-cakes” – Kaitlin had baked get well cupcakes for Chooch.

I seriously almost cried, it was so thoughtful!

“I tried to make some of them as much like zombies as possible,” Kaitlin pointed out. “But since I’m scared to death of them, I don’t keep a lot of zombie provisions on hand.”

Co-workers kept stopping in their tracks, noticing the bakery box on my desk. Once they learned why it was given to me, you could almost see their brains churning out self-injury ideas so they could get their own sympathy treats from Kaitlin.

After work, I got in the car and showed Chooch. He honestly lit up; bloody, bruised lip and all. He immediately tore into one of the zombie cakes, which left a blood-like smear all over his mouth.

Memories!

But at least THIS blood was edible.

He was so happy. It meant so much to me that Kaitlin would do something so thoughtful for my son, whom she hasn’t even met.

Of course, Henry ate 95% of the contents of the box which I think is bullshit, considering he wouldn’t let me bash him in the mouth with a slab of concrete first.

Goddamn Henry.