I have baby animal fever.
It’s like baby fever except I don’t get to eat for two in order to acquire said baby.
Our baby cat is almost EIGHT months old. She’s like, a real cat now. A small real cat, but a real one.
She’s such a big girl we left her home for FOUR nights over Thanksgiving. Wwell, with visits from Brad
Who is her new best friend I’ve been told. (Mrs Wookie, recognize our cat sitter?)
She’s so grown up that I’m pretty sure we’re ready for a new baby cat to play with.
That face? It’s her “I love you and if you move your arm too quickly I might think it needs to be pounced on”
To quell my baby fever, I baked.
And I didn’t just bake anything. I baked baby brownies.
I made up some easy peasy brownies
And put them into the baby muffin pan
And because I cannot leave well enough alone, I took some chocolate chips
And melted them, with butter and cream
(Um. ok. I was out of cream and used coffee creamer. Let’s pretend I don’t make this sub all the time, ok? It works!)
Although I think that baby cat is plotting to eat these when I leave for work
Watch it girl. I saw what you did to the last cookies I made. Baby animals may not be for eating but you’re almost grown up. We did name you Takeout after all….