More sprinkles than I could even fathom.
Unicorn sprinkles, glittery sprinkles, alphabet sprinkles, more, more, more, just kept appearing out of thin air until Beth and I decided to go with it. Because who is really going to hold a hard limit against sprinkles when you’d have to do the walk of shame at least a dozen times to get them all put away again?
To be fair, having Beth there felt like I had adult supervision. Even though I was technically supposed to be the adult supervision.
But there’s something about having an older adult in the room that allows me to hand in my grown-up card and defer all emergency contingencies to.
If Beth seemed okay with it, then why shouldn’t I?
While they made the batter, I finally figured out how to connect my phone to the cool built-in speakers that surrounded the home. I scrolled through my mom’s Saturday cleaning playlist, because yes, she did upgrade to streaming her music after she realized she no longer had to smack our old CD player to life every day, and picked a song I knew Beth would get a kick out of.
An Olga Tañón classic, of course.
Within minutes, we were dancing merengue by the stove, whipping up enough batches to feed the whole building. Every time I tried to reel Anna in, Beth waved me off, saying there were enough staff in the lobby that would probably appreciate the free sugary goodness.
So, in my mind, we were providing a service for the building employees. And with that good deed to justify this madness, we carried on.
Anna ate between batches, since I wanted to make sure that she still made it to school on time, even though it seemed likeshe’d woken up with the need to compete on a Food Network competition show.
By the time she was done, we were working on our final batch.
She was already dressed and ready in her uniform, so I took over powdered sugar duty.
Funny how this was all Anna’s idea, yet I was the one constantly wiping sweat off my face. But I couldn’t deny how entertaining this was. How nice it felt to cook for fun and not have to stress about appropriate measuring tools when it came to pouring chocolate chips and sprinkles.
There was freedom in indulging Anna’s whims, almost like I got to be a five-year-old again myself.
Hell, my twenty-five-year-old self will now forever find boozy brunches a bit underwhelming if they don’t include blasting salsa and merengue music and include enough sweetness to put me in a sugar coma.
Yet all good things must come to an end. So with my eye on the clock, I grab the last pack of unopened sprinkles to wrap up this pancake party. I’m so enamored by the sight of Beth twirling Anna to the beat that I don’t bother reading the label.
I’m also distracted when Olga hits that note that makes you feel that grown woman’s pain that I don’t hear the distinctdingof the elevator doors opening.
I think this is the point at which the wheels fall off our runaway train.
Because what happens next could only be described as my worst nightmare.
Just as I’m about to twist off the lid of the sprinkle container, Anna’s eyes widen comically. I think she might be saying “no” with the way her mouth opened in a perfect, shocked O, but I’m too stunned to react.
Since I’m staring straight into Mateo’s confused eyes. As if he must have walked into the wrong apartment.
My knuckles strain as they continue to twist, when the sprinkles in my hand explode… everywhere.
I’m talking multiple feet in the air and covering every square inch of the kitchen all the way up to where Mateo stands tall.
As far as my eyes can see, those little colorful traitors scatter like thieves in the night.
Mateo’s expression instantly goes from confused to furious.
“Isa, those were the cannon sprinkles! They’re supposed to be for rainbow explosion cakes!” Anna tries to run up toward me, but Mateo holds her shoulder to keep her from stepping in the mess I’ve made.
“Daddy, you’re home!” She leaps into his father’s arms. His eyes close and his body sags slightly. For a second, just a tiny one, I think that he may forget about this whole debacle if I quietly slip off to my room. That is, of course, until he opens his eyes to pin me in place. As if he knows I’ve got the urge to bolt and wants to make sure I stay put for my punishment.
A shiver runs down my spine at the very naughty thoughts of what punishment from Mateo might look like.
Beth’s quiet chuckle almost breaks the tension in the room. “You’re home, mi hijo. And right on time. We were about to get into Olga’s greatest hits.”
His cheeks turn slightly pink as he directs that same glare at his mother, although, by the way she’s patting his arm, it clearly has no effect on her. “Anna, let’s go upstairs and finish your hair before Isa drops you off at school.”
