Okay, so last Friday on our UN-ice day I decided to make homemade cinnamon rolls. I pulled out none other than the good 'ol Betty Crocker cookbook and proceeded with reckless abandon. Actually, that is not a true statement. I pulled out the Betty Crocker the night before. I made up the dough on Thursday night with the intention of finishing the cinnamon rolls amidst our icy wonderland of Friday. Since the icy wonderland didn't happen, I simply pulled out the dough.
Rather anti-climactic, I know.
I'm going to skip all the parts about letting the dough rise and such because that is the most hated part of making dough. My inability to be patient with the dough while it is rising nearly drives me to some sort of insane madness Therefore, I choose to not discuss it lest I lose my senses.
They really were quite easy to assemble and I popped them into the oven and waited with great anticipation. As did the girls - except it wasn't so much anticipation as it was a lack of patience evidenced by that fact that they asked, "are they done YET?" oh I'd say about 2 or 857 times. I really do try to tell them that patience is a virtue, but I do believe the old saying, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, would definitely apply here.
Prepare for your eyes and salivary glands to be deliciously assaulted to mind boggling proportions!
Oh my. Look at that homemade cream cheese icing tempting you with its white, glossy sweetness.
Go ahead...smell the computer monitor. I bet you can smell the cinnamony goodness through the screen. C'mon, I wanna see you try.
Oh look, a piece for y'all. Get that fork and stick a big, fat, delicious bite in your mouth.
Hurry up, will ya? They're almost gone! (We are a "middle of the pan" group of folks if you can't tell)
Doesn't that look good?
And now is where my story comes to a screeching halt.
Not too many bites after this particular bite above, our LiverPie, in her ravenous pursuit of her cinnamon roll, accidentally bit down on her fork. Hard. There was loud wailing and gnashing of teeth (literally) and might I add, copious amounts of blood. Ironically enough, this was the same time that Baby Girl decided she needed attention and was doing some mighty fine wailing of her own. All the while Monk was in a business meeting in the other room.
Now I have two children screaming at the TOP of their good, strong lungs, but the one with the blood pouring from her mouth would have to take precedence. (And mind you, I still haven't finished my cinnamon roll!) I look around for Sis, who is my right arm at times, expecting her to be my go-to girl in the situation. However, the minute she saw LiverPie begin spitting bloody cinnamon roll into the trash she did what she normally does in a crisis. She began spinning in circles then tucked tail and ran from the room crying.
Thankfully, Monk came out of his meeting in the nick of time (i.e. before Momma lost her ever loving mind) and was able to help with the Baby Girl. Liv was given a wet paper towel to hold in her mouth while I poured a
Liv did do damage to one of her bottom teeth. It now juts out at a 45 degree angle and the dentist's office told me she could lose it early. She wouldn't let me photograph her tooth to show you. I told her it was for the blog, but she just wouldn't do it. (Insert tongue in cheek here) Poor baby.
All because of a cinnamon roll, y'all. They are the devil.
Awww..now look what happened. You got so wrapped up in the story that all the cinnamon rolls were eaten. Maybe next time. Just be careful not to enjoy it so much that you end up eating your fork as well.
It's not a pleasant experience. Just ask our 5 year old.