Last week there was a tap at the door. There stood my neighbour, M, with her super lovely daughter A holding her tiny tot lovelies (two of them to be exact, dimples a-shining!)- holding a plate with four glimmering, sweet warm-from-the-oven, streusel topped wild blueberry home-baked muffins.
I gasped! M was returning plates from a tiny batch of samosas I had delivered to their door one night...and in her opposite hand, the muffins.
I ate two. Yes, there are four, count that FOUR people in my family. Cough...
Julian ate one.
One sat.
And sat.
Til the evening!
Taunting me each time I walked into the kitchen. There, on the table. On M's designer white plate. The wild blueberry gorgeousness, with sweet streusel topping...beaming at me like an angel. "Eat me," it beckoned.
"No," replied my hips, calmly.
Sneering, the muffin taunts, "Well, that cup of tea is pretty boring without ME."
Turning, holding back a tear, I whispered silently yet firmly, "Evil muffin, you who are so tasty and caloric, be gone! You are left for one of the children or both of them to split so stop teasing me it will get you nowhere!!!"
Looking rather forlorn and disgruntled, the muffin stopped. It sat for a few more hours. Each time it spied me it raised a sweet eyebrow of hopefulness. Hmmpph.
Later, I returned to the kitchen to see a plate of crumbs. Ah, someone had succumbed, but not me. I couldn't help my schadenfreude. {I was secretly happy that muffin bit the dust.} That delicious, home-baked wild blueberry streusel- topped EVIL thing.
When M returns home from her weekend I shall return her plate. Between us, she'll never know how those muffins came to their end. ;D
Recent Comments