A favorite memory of raising my boy genius?
He’s yelling. I run downstairs. I yell. We’re swept-up by a wave of amorphous gloop belching Funfetti. It then heatlessly and instantly bakes into a chest-deep, wall-to-wall, kitchen-filling cake.
“Happy birthday… Mom,” I hear him murmur, buried somewhere in its third layer.
Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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