The Dreaded Text Message

This is an actual text message from my daughter.  It arrived on my phone at exactly 7:40PM.  I was in a gym working out.  As readers of my blog know, I despise people that bring their cell phones in the workout area of the gym, so it goes without saying that my cell phone was securely stowed in my locker.  I finished my workout at 8:10PM and walked out to my car.  Before I started my car, I checked my phone for any messages.  This is what I read:

“Hey Dad, I want to make cupcakes for my friend’s birthday tomorrow.  Do we have stuff here?  Or if not, can you buy it?  Thank you.”

Before I disclose my immediate reaction to this message, I should probably translate it as it was meant to be understood.  I’ll paraphrase, “Hey Dad. Can you make me some cupcakes tonight for my friend’s birthday tomorrow?  I realize that I didn’t say anything to you earlier this afternoon, so that we might have been able to prepare for it, but I really want to be able to give her some cupcakes because she is my best friend.  I don’t think you have anything important to do anyway, so try to think about what we might need (ingredient wise) and stop at the store before you come home.  I might be able to help you make them, but then again, I might not.  Thanks Dad.”  My daughter will tell you with a straight face that she didn’t mean for the message to sound as I’ve described it; but trust me to tell you that the spirit of my translation is extremely accurate. 

Because I bake so much, I always have a running inventory of items in my mind.  I buy the industrial size of most things, so it’s usually just the perishables or expensive cocoa powders that are in short supply.  But I digress…

When I finish a workout at 8:10PM, the last thing on my mind, usually, is that I want to bake anything before I take a shower and go to bed.  You can call me lazy if you like, but after a workout where I can literally wring out my t-shirt into a glass, I like to unwind for a while and savor the few endorphins that have managed to escape from my brain.  If this makes me a bad Dad, then we will just have to agree to disagree and move on. 

So, back to my text message… I’m not quite sure what the exact words in my mind were.  As I said I was just coming off of a fairly intense session of muscle burn.  I think it was something to the effect of, “Are you kidding me?” I should add that I still had to pick up my other daughter at 8:30PM from an evening class, so I wouldn’t even be getting home until 8:50PM.  From there, the (as yet) hypothetical cupcake baking would begin. 

I called her from my car, while exiting the parking structure.  “Are you serious,” I asked?  “Because you told me that you had to go to school early tomorrow and are being picked up at 6:30AM.  I’ll make the frosting when I wake up, but you’re going to have to frost them.”  She acknowledged that and said, “OK.”  “OK, then,” I said, “I’ll make them.”  Yes, to all of you disbelievers out there, I am a good Dad - at least when it comes to baking.

For my troubles, I stole a mini cupcake.  For this friend’s birthday, I’ll consider that payment in full.