26 June, 2012  |   Comment

Toddler Pizza Party

I know, I know.
I’m not supposed to even acknowledge on the Internet that I was ever busy.
But, my friends, life is filled with life.
I’d better appreciate it.

And in the meantime, I’d better share it.
(Lest I forget.)

Pizza party.

Sunday, we built our own pizzas.

We decorated one dollar pizza crusts. At the store, the dough was hidden next to the half-frozen spinach dip and refrigerated specialty pizzas, but if you looked closely, maybe you’d find it too. With the cheese, the sauce and some root beer, the whole dang trip came to $8.34.

This was important this week.
Dinner for less than $10.

Pizza party.

We stretched and tossed the dough, putting exactly what we wanted to on our pizzas. All the ladies chose cheese, more cheese, more cheese and sauce.

My manfriend chose pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onions and basil. He guarded that pizza with hipchecks and squinty eyes just like a man in a house full of ladies would do.

Well done, handsome.

Pizza party.

We put our pizzas in the oven for 12 minutes at 420°.

We raised our glasses and said, “I’m thank you for the trees and Auntafee and this great food and grandmagrandpa and my birthday party and Pinot and Mama-not-Papa and Papa-not-Mama and [HEY] we don’t talk to each other like that and [CLINK] love you and you and you and you.”

Pizza party.

We had a pizza party. With salad.
It didn’t cost a lot.

You could do that too.
Yes. Do that.

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