What happens when you don't read the memo

This Saturday, Conor's school is having Spooktacular, the annual Halloween blowout. I, being a PTA member and guilt-ridden single working mother, offered to make cupcakes for the bake sale. So last night, I made glorious butter-recipe chocolate cupcakes with an added surprise: Halloween bittersweet chocolate chips inside. Because what on earth is better than chocolate except even more chocolate?

As I pulled them out of the oven, Conor came sidling in (the oven door sound to him is like the sound of a can opener is to a cat, I suppose).

"What's that?"

"Cupcakes for Spooktacular."

"They're chocolate."

"Yes. Yes they are, and I even added chocolate chips in there, too."

. . .

"What, hon?"

"The paper said no chocolate."

"The paper?"

"In my backpack. The signup sheet said no chocolate."

There was no sound at this moment. But if there had been, I imagine it would have sounded a lot like a bubble bursting.

"Mom. Can I have one?"

"Yes. Yes you can."

Tonight, She Who Cannot Follow Directions will make yellow cupcakes instead. And tomorrow, She Who Cannot Read will bring 23 chocolate chocolate-chip Halloween cupcakes to work, where there will be much appreciation and no knowledge of She Who Is A Dumbass' mistake.

All better.