The other night I had gone out for a while during the evening. I returned home, opened the front door, and was hit with the delicious smell of brownies baking in the oven and fresh coffee in the pot.
We love brownies and they are especially yummy when someone else bakes them. Why is that? The brownies cooled and the sound of the pizza cutter being removed from the drawer drew men, young and old alike, from the four corners of the house to come and partake.
I cut up the brownies and left the kitchen. A few minutes later, I came back to this:
Such is the life of a mother. Getting the crusts and a brownie with a bite out of it.
And just as an aside, gosh, do I need a new pan or what? Can you say gnarly?