Toothpicks. They're the new "cup of sugar". At least that's how it was two weeks ago around here.
I get a call from my neighbor. She never calls.
I thought something was wrong.
Her son is making a cake for Cub Scouts. Each year the pack has a cake bake auction as a fund raiser. George dropped out of Cub Scouts two weeks before this. Den meetings were boring...
Anyway, her son is making a Guitar Cake and needed toothpicks to use as part of the tuner keys. She asks for six. I dig my supply out of the cake decorating box, and meet her son outside and give him my entire box. To be neighborly. In case they break a toothpick or something.
To date, I've heard nothing.
No "the cake turned out great."
No "we had to buy our cake so our son wasn't upset"
No "we raised over $300 as a pack"
I thought it was kind of strange.
But that's okay. Life is busy.
I totally get that!
And so, I'm here yesterday -- a week or two later -- and I'm heading upstairs for the umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time I scoot George's huge bag away from the stair step with my toe. (It's holding his collection of Pokemon and Baseball cards. Including this huge binder!)
And as I begin my ascent on the stairs, I see it.
A baggie that has slipped out of the bag.
A baggie that contains my box of toothpicks.
Sent home, no doubt, the very next day when George was comparing collections with her son!