The houses are constructed. The icing glue is set. Cousins are waiting patiently at the dining room table, resisting attempts to get into the building materials: red and black licorice, sour patch kids, jujubes, and snowcaps. Soon the butter knives are in hand and the fun begins! Globs of icing lazily hold a candy here and there. Licorice rope flops as a poor roof line. No matter, the fingers carrying quickly divert to smiling faces and cheeks are filled with more sugary sweets than any mother would like to admit.
“Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.”
– Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
Ryder has always had a desire to eat muffins. Maybe it was because before he could even walk we would sit on the kitchen floor and stir up a batch of Martha White muffin mix. We would watch them rise to a golden buttery perfection in under fifteen minutes. Or maybe its because muffins are happiness in a little paper cup (or naked really, it doesn’t matter to us).