my elementary school era self would be very disappointed right now, i think. i'm making brownies and screaming the lyrics to some cheesy top 40s love song, using the batter-coated spoon as a microphone (of course).
she'd only be partially disappointed at the baking; someone expecting me to perform any stereotypical housewife duties would make me want to hide away in my room forever. but i secretly did always like baking. and i kept that a secret out of fear of getting told how great a wife i'd make one day.
sigh.
however, the disappointment is primarily coming from the boy band type of love song coming out of my speaker. because God forbid my younger self enjoyed anything that was about love or romance or, you know... happiness in general.
but, i think, if younger me looked over and saw you sitting on our kitchen table, grinning wide at my boisterous singing voice with cheeks bright red, she'd reconsider the mortification.
