March is for daily slicing, and all are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!
By the third day of having whoopie pies in the house, I need them to leave. As you might have read earlier this week, I've been cheating with addictive whoopie pies since my youngest daughter made them for her study group. (Funny how little she seems to be studying now that she's into college. I'm fairly sure she spent longer making whoopie pies than at her study session.)
"Are you going to eat these?" I ask my husband.
He never does.
"Are you going to eat these?" I ask my mother.
She eats them, but about a tenth of one a day. And guess who eats the other 90%?
"Are you going to eat these?" I ask Cecily the baker. "Or at least bring them to school again?"
She's already planning her next culinary endeavor. Nope.
So I pack them up in foil and place them on my passenger seat. One way or another, I was NOT going to keep eating whoopie pies.
At school, I walk into my friend Missie's room carrying my foil package and napkins. I place one on her desk, and her eyes get wide. Missie is super enthusiastic, and she almost does a happy dance. Not one to be shy, Missie takes an immediate bite.
"How many more of those do you have?" she asks. "Give the pudgy girl the whoopie pies!"
I laugh and leave her with another. Then head to another lucky recipient of Cecily's baked goods. No more whoopie pies for me.