And my point here? Yeah, I was in AC Moore anyway, so I figured I'd look around. I didn't have much time because the girls had gone through most of their drinks and almost all of the pretzels that I had with me, but I did manage to pick up a new mini muffin pan. A 24 count one. I just love mini muffins. They're so cute and small and single-servingish.
So why I am sharing this with you? It's not just so I can tell you to look forward to many mini-muffin recipes, perhaps even one for Mother's Day. No, it's because while I was waiting in line to pay and rationing the last of the honey wheat pretzels, I remembered a funny story and I started laughing to myself, except that I might have laughed out loud cause the lady behind me moved her shopping cart back a few feet. Who knows? My point here is that I was remembering my old mini-muffin pan. I loved that pan, I received it as a gift at my bridal shower from a good friend who also loves to bake. But alas, that pan is no more.
And why is that pan no more, you ask? Because several years ago one of my boys filled the pan with mega size lego blocks, one block per cupcake space and fell in love with the idea of playing baker and baking his cupcakes in the little play kitchen. Adorable enough. And then one day, while dinner was in the oven, Josh came home and made a weird face. I thought maybe the chicken smelled funny - but no, not the chicken. Just the melted legos that had been cooking in the broiler - in the mini-muffin pan - the whole time the chicken had been in the oven. On 450. For a good hour at that point. I'll never know how many days that lego filled pan had been sitting in the oven, waiting for it to preheat. The lego was melted, the pan was ruined and there were tears all around.
And so today, when I brought home the bag with the new pan and my boys saw it, they started snickering (isn't that a great word? And it's exactly what they did) at each other, asking me if I remembered what happened with the other pan that Josh threw into the backyard. And I started laughing again too. But the best part, for me at least, is that these two little boys who could not have been more than 2 and 3 years old at the time, remember the first really naughty thing they did together - and they bonded over it. Brothers, forever. That's what I always tell them.