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We have already established that Allie would sell her soul for a cupcake.  Or at least her sister’s soul.

This morning, I got up and got ambitious.  I dragged out three boxes of muffin mix (yes, three.  I live with two boys.  The amount of food consumed in a day is mind numbing) and decided I would surprise everyone by having muffins ready for breakfast.

I got to thinking about how I had a “coffee date” with a friend down the road a few months ago.

She was so proud of herself that she had gotten up early one day to make her three sons muffins for breakfast…for them to all come downstairs and pronounce the muffins disgusting.  They weren’t.  Just boys being boys.

At the end of our coffee date, she sent the muffins home with me because it was clear no one in her house was going to eat them.

I tossed the muffins, now contained in a ziplock bag, onto the counter when I got home, and went to throw a load of laundry into the washer machine.

When I came upstairs, the house was quiet.  Too quiet.  Abnormally quiet.

“Allie?…” I peeked around the corner of the living room, where cartoons were happily blaring from the TV.  No Allie.  I checked the staircase, to see if she was upstairs in her sister’s room.  “Allie?….”

Still no answer.  I’m beginning to get a little worried.  Allie is adept at getting the front door open, and though she never usually tries unless there’s a stranger at the door ringing the bell (yeesh!), one could never be too sure.

“Allie?…” I try one more time, still checking into rooms and corners.  I am now ready to notify the authorities that there’s a maniac loose and to hide the women and children.

Except, what’s that noise coming from the dining room area?  Is it coming from the dog’s house, where we keep her contained when we’re out of the house, lest she chew through the walls?  Obviously it IS coming from the cage, but it must be Daisy, our eight month old chocolate lab puppy.

And there, in the back of the dog cage, in the dimness, sits one happy Allie with a bag of muffins, stuffing them into her face as fast as she humanly can, before I find her and take away all her goodies.  She is a smeared mess of chocolate and blueberries.

“Hi, Mama,” she grins when she finds out she’s been spotted.

“Hi, bad baby,” I call back, with as big a smile on my face.

All Allie knows is that muffins come in cupcake form, in cupcake wrappers, in the same tins that cupcakes are baked in.  Minus the lack of frosting, what’s not to love?

She’ll be thrilled to see muffins and/or cupcakes are for breakfast when she gets up!