I come from a long line of German bakers
Seriously.
And by long line, I mean my dad’s great-grandfather, Ferdinand Eberhard Ulmer (EPIC! I am naming my first son after this brilliant man. DO NOT TEST ME UNIVERSE!), immigrated here from Germany, opened up a bakery in New York City, and that accounts for my madd-baking skillz… GENETICS!
Only not.
Tonight was comparable to this evening in December.
Even though German food genetically runs through our veins – James and I got a tad overzealous. We flew too high with our wings of wax, and by wax, I mean icing. I am totally Icarus. A frosted Icarus.
But we get an A+ for parental enthusiasm. These are to be enjoyed tomorrow in honor of the Bug’s 1st Birthday.
Then my pop, who actually DID inherit some baking talent (because HE’S the geneticist – which totally makes sense), is responsible for the ladybug cake that shall be brought to the Bug’s birthday party this weekend.
Now I’m going to go pass out in a sugar coma, because let’s be honest, I ate half the container while icing the cakes.