The bag of flour had exploded. Somehow, she would have to repair her Home Ec flour baby. But how?

Other than this most recent mishap, she had been fairly diligent in fulfilling her faux maternal responsibilities.  She had even arranged for a sitter when she went to the movies.  She knew for a fact that Stacy had just stuffed her flour baby in the closet all weekend.  But Stacy’s baby remained intact in his or her original packaging.  This baby had exploded all over the kitchen flour.

This was an epic dilemma.

Suddenly, she remembered the phrase, “Let them eat cake.”  Marie Antoinette said that, right?  French class came right after lunch, and she often found herself stoned as a result.  It made it extremely difficult to remember which words were masculine and which were feminine.

She scooped the flour into a large metal bowl.  On her iPhone, she found a recipe for a plain vanilla cake.  Determined, she preheat the oven.  Adding the necessary ingredients, she stirred them up, making the  batter.  After a while, she ended up with a moderately respectable sheet cake.  In swoops and swirls of pink icing, she wrote,  “It’s a Girl!”

It may not have been the original assignment, but, baby, it would sure be delicious.

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