Julian's birthday party is on Thursday, which means for the next three days I'll be neurotically bouncing between home and the supermarket, between bouts of locking myself in the spare bedroom and cutting apart cardboard boxes. No time to explain. You'll see.
Yesterday, Tony took the almost-birthday-bunny to a park for the better half of the afternoon while I played in the kitchen and Frankie napped on the dining room table. One hundred twenty three cutouts later, I experimented with royal icing for the first time on cars, buses, motorcycles, and... a unicorn. Wearing leg warmers. I could see this becoming an addiction; royal icing is, essentially, the love child of a rapturous affair between art class and dessert.
I know, the unicorn was totally unnecessary, but I stuck it on the otherwise transportation-themed cookie cutter order I placed last week and had to make just one. Unicorn cookies?!? I'm already coming up with excuses to make them for everything (including as an I'm-sorry-for-being-such-a-crazy-party-planning-cow-pressie).
You had a baby? Great, I'll bring over unicorn cookies!
OMG, sure I'll be your bridesmaid! Let's celebrate tonight over mojitos. And unicorn cookies.
Merry Christmas! That reminds me... I brought unicorn cookies!
See? They totes work for every occasion. Except maybe a funeral, unless iced in grey and black. Hmmm...
Three cheers to brushing those sweet teeth before bed.