as i approached the cafeteria door, it swung wide open, and the students parted into two lines, making a path for me to enter. silence fell, as they wondered, wide-eyed, what i had in those mysterious brownie pans. were they indeed brownies? cupcakes? muffins? i was, after all, adored, virtually worshiped for my gourmet creations. the crowd broke into cheers as i unveiled the--
oh, wait. that was all in my head, like an episode of "scrubs."
as i balanced the unusually long cookie sheet on top of the two brownie pans, i prayed and hoped i would, for once, be graceful and not drop anything. as we headed toward the gate to enter the school zone, where all the little people gathered, my heart raced.
last night, as soon as i had finished these little tiny morsels of gourmet goodness, i had begun doubting my bake sale choice. would 6-year-olds really choose a PIE over a cookie or donut, even if the pies were indeed tiny and cute?
and what about the grown-ups in the room? as we got closer and closer to the cafeteria door, i felt like everyone was staring at me. i could feel the students wondering: what is in those mystery pans anyway? why is this lady carrying so many pans instead of a bag of cookies, something we can devour in one bite with our bare hands?" (ok, maybe they wouldn't be thinking "devour" but i can hope that wordly wise is working for some of them.)
the cafeteria door opened, and a father of a classmate of gillian's held the door for me. "go ahead," he said. but i stood there, frozen, as literally dozens of students poured out the door on top of me, unaware of my existence.
why is it, by the way, that by the time kids enter elementary school, they gain the superpower of utterly ignoring an adult's presence? i wish i had this superpower, but alas i think it wears off by the time we enter high school. i could have used that power today.
i drew nearer the bake sale table and sat my pans down. and this is when i began saying, "we don't have to open these. i should have brought plastic spoons. i don't think i made the right dessert. i think i should have brought cookies."
to which i was greeted with, "oh! these look delicious! what are they?" this question was asked of the tiny apple pies, which i forgot to take a picture of, so you'll have to trust me that they are so freaking cute it's ridiculous.
i backed away, blushing, sweating, thinking, "i am so stupid. why do i get so worked up over small things like this?"
oh yeah, i am insecure. lucky for me, kids have another superpower: they don't notice the insecurity. they just see a mom carrying food and they don't care what it is: if it has sugar, they want to buy it.
so they love me! hooray! the bake sale is a success! because of course it's all about me, now isn't it?
as i made my grand exit, supermom cape flapping in the breeze, i tossed up a hand and waved good-bye over my shoulder. i would be back. next time, with more goodies and more self-assuredness in tow.
maybe it's hiding in my cape. i need to check that thing.
p.s. in case you want to make these awesomely adorable tiny pies, here are the links:
smitten kitchen's chocolate pudding pie
eggs on sunday's apple cup pies
and i really, really want to make these tiny pies in jars from our best bites.