A (not so) funny thing happened in my home kitchen the other day. Maybe you can relate… My son was turning six and asked me to bake him a special S’mores brownie (his fave) to bring to school and share with his kindergarten class. As a working mom, I relish the moments when I can feel connected to my oldest son even when he’s at school. I was thrilled to think of him, on his special day, beaming with pride as he shared my creation with his class.
I don’t know if his teacher is aware of what I do for a living but, if she is, I imagine her expectations were pretty high. But this is where things get interesting. My sons birthday was on a Monday so I set aside time Sunday afternoon to bake. That was until… a brutal migraine decided to wipe me off my feet Sunday morning. I’ll spare you the details of what that looked like (although the picture below pretty much sums it up)! But for anyone who suffers from severe migraines, you understand how debilitating they can be.
Instead of baking, I was in bed feeling guilty about missing a chunk of my sons birthday weekend and, oh my goodness… the Brownies!
Enter: Wonderful husband! Around midnight he came to check on me and whispered that he had baked brownies for Teddy’s class. I was so relieved, and at the same time, had a lot of questions. I was still feeling too sick to be overly concerned with the answers. What recipe did he use? Are they any good? Does he even know how to make brownies? The most important thing was that Teddy would have something to share with his class. Or, so I thought…
The migraine was still going strong Monday morning so I only glanced briefly at the brownies. They looked very thin and light in color. I didn’t think much of it, other than feeling sad that I wasn’t able to make them myself.
Later that afternoon I went to get Teddy off the bus and the first thing I asked him about was the brownies. He told me everyone liked them and also mentioned there were a few left over. Ohhh, really? This instantly sparked my curiosity and would give me an opportunity to try my husband’s brownies. Who knows, he’s pretty good at stuff and maybe his brownies were even better than mine. I’d still like to believe the one thing he Can. Not. Touch. is my brownie baking skills.
As soon as we walked in the door I rifled through my son’s backpack and pulled out the plastic container with the leftover brownies inside. Wait, are those brownies? That’s when I started laughing really hard.
Speaking of hard, the three small squares inside were as thin and crispy as crackers. Turns out my husband got the recipe from a cook book he’s had since college. Also turns out he doesn’t know what unsweetened chocolate is and decided to do without it.
In the end, I can’t fault the guy for baking brownies at midnight for his son to bring to school on his birthday. It’s admirable for sure. I’m still a bit disturbed by the fact his teacher might think they were Vermont Brownie Company brownies. My question to you is… do I bother to explain this to my son’s teacher? 😄