The Snowball Effect

It's 9:40 on a Sunday night and the teen just spilled some juice on her white shirt.  She's taking a snack break from editing her prom pics and tagging all of her friends on Facebook instead of prepping for her impending semester exams next week.  I'm so glad she understands about priorities and the importance of attaining the best possible GPA this year for her college apps in the fall.  Go HUBU!  Head Up Butt University is gonna be her alma mater if she's not careful.


But I digress... the juice spill jogs her willy nilly memory, reminding her that she needs to wear this same shirt and the dance team pants (also on her person) tomorrow so they can get a group pic for the recital program.  It seems my daughter isn't the only teen who enjoys going full throttle with her hair on fire, racing to get things done at the last minute.  This is what happens when you let the inmates dancers run the asylum show.


I guess I can trot that up to school tomorrow afternoon since I'm already headed that way to take the tres leche cake for her Spanish class project.  The 5th grader helped me whip it up this afternoon since the teen was at recital rehearsals for seven hours.  I'll be interested to see how the teacher derives a grade based upon our culinary efforts.  B+ because the whipped cream topping was a tad runny.  Would a bit of eggshell or hair in the cake lead to a failing grade?


When I asked the teen about serving the cake to the class for her presentation, she realized small disposable plates and spoons would be necessary.  So I guess I'll need to swing by the grocery store on my way to the school to drop off her Spanish cake and dance outfit.  HUBU, here we come!