My eight year old son entered a sport cake decorating contest and the boy with the best cake got a basketball.

I didn’t have time to bake the cake and so I picked up one from the bakery.  For the decorations, I bought donuts and cookies for my son to make baseballs, basketballs, and soccer balls.

Justin had so much fun decorating his cake.  It was a blast to watch him.

But friends, I’m not sure how to describe what he designed.

The sport balls were covered in caramel frosting that screamed poop. The cake looked like it got hit by a baseball bat and landed in the mud.  Who would eat this cake?   Despite the mess, my son was proud.  In his eyes he created a master piece.  He was excited to show off his work and eat it.

I was worried that his cake wasn’t good enough and it wasn’t in the eyes of an adult.  Apparently I didn’t receive the same memo that the other moms did.  Their cakes were not decorated by their kids. Instead the work was done by talented moms.  (Pinterest duplications covered every inch of the display table.)

I wanted to run away.  I failed my son.  I should have helped him more.

Guilt shot through me like a wave and I felt bad that my son didn’t win or at least have a presentable cake.  I was mad at myself for not doing a better job for him.

At the end of the night he was the only one – to read the rest Not A Pinterest Perfect Mom