This post appears to be about cupcakes, but it's really about something else.

It was a day for cupcakes.

I like cupcakes, a lot. I never knew I was such a cupcake person, really, until Matt and I discovered this little coffee shop up in West Seattle that makes really great cupcakes and pretty good coffee. Sometimes very good coffee. (Although Cupcake Royale has the best coffee -- Stumptown is Matt's favorite. Their cupcakes are more famous, and they definitely have the coolness quotient down, but they're not as good.) We started going there because they have a big play area in the back and comfortable chairs for nursing a baby, and when Suzannah was born I quickly learned to judge places on whether or not they were good places to change and nurse a baby. As she grew, she loved playing there while Matt and I drank coffee and ate those cupcakes. They also have miniature cupcakes, and we usually get Suzannah one of those, although she has naturally caught on to the fact that there are big cupcakes and there are little cupcakes AND SHE WANTS A BIG CUPCAKE, THANK YOU. These days, we can only get away with the little cupcakes if we get little cupcakes, too, and come on. Who wants a little cupcake?

It's easy for me to feel entitled to cupcakes. I need them because I've had a bad day, because I've had a great day, because Suzannah threw a tantrum that made my ears bleed, because Suzannah was incredibly sweet all day, because Isaac pooped seventy-five times and I'm tired of laundry, because Isaac rolled over, because I'm having a bad hair day, because the sky is blue, because we have no cookies in the house, because my floors need to be vacuumed, because no one loves me and I guess I'll go eat worms, because I lost another three pounds of "baby weight," because I went for a run, because I don't want to work out, because someone went to the trouble of baking them with love and it would be rude not to buy one...

...yeah.

Today I decided we needed cupcakes because the sun was shining and it was a beautiful morning and I really wanted to take my kiddos for a walk, but the last time I did that, it was beautiful and sunny when we left the house and then we blinked and the sky became very angry and suddenly we were walking, head-down against a sudden and unfair onslaught of wind and rain. ("I don't think it's going to do that today," Matt said. And then it HAILED.) Instead of a walk, I loaded the kids into the car and we drove what was probably an obscene distance just for a cupcake. I didn't care, though. I wanted one, and I was reasonably sure Suzannah would want one, too.

So we drove to Seattle and walked a block or two to our favorite coffee shop. Suzannah and I call it "The Cupcake Place." We walked in the front door and Suzannah made a bee-line for the display case.

"I want that one," she said, pointing at a pretty pink little number called "Strawberry Swirl."

"Okay," I said. I pointed at the top shelf -- the one with the miniature cupcakes -- and said, "One of the little pink ones, and --"

"No, I want a big one," Suzannah said.

I wanted a big one, too. Matt would have probably said, "How about we share a big one, Suzannah?" But I really didn't want to share a big one, I wanted to eat the whole thing by myself. I didn't drive all the way to West Seattle to share a cupcake. So I ordered us both our own Strawberry Swirl, and we ate them delicately without wasting any frosting, and then Suzannah scampered off to play while I cuddled and nursed Isaac, who thinks he might one day like a cupcake of his very own, too.

It was warm and cozy inside and bitingly cold outside, and we had cupcakes and I had coffee and Suzannah was playing happily with another little girl and I read them both two stories and Isaac chewed on his blue bear and it was a perfect morning. I didn't feel at all guilty about driving an obscene distance just for a cupcake.

Finally, Suzannah announced that she was ready to go home -- I didn't even have to coax/bribe/argue! -- so I packed everything into the diaper bag and stood up with Isaac just as he noisily filled his diaper and punctuated the incident with a satisfied shriek.

"Okay, Bug, we've gotta change your brother," I said. She followed me into the spacious bathroom and closed and locked the door by herself, because she is a big girl. A moment later, she announced, "Mommy, I need to go potty." And just like that, she shimmied right up on the toilet seat.

Like, the actual, real toilet seat. She voluntarily decided to use a public toilet.

THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.

Suzannah has been potty-trained for a long, long time but she has adamantly refused to use any kind of public toilet seat. Only recently has she consented to using any toilet that isn't the one in her bathroom, including Mommy and Daddy's Very Clean Toilet Seat. I was floored. This is the child who will stubbornly hold her bladder for approximately three months just so she doesn't have to pee somewhere other than her own toilet. And there she was, hopping up there totally nonchalantly like she does this ALL THE TIME.

I'm sure all the people in the coffee shop wondered why there was such a party going on in the bathroom. I'm also sure the other mothers in the coffee shop would have understood completely. Sadly, the place was nearly empty as we emerged triumphantly from the bathroom, and I didn't think the barista would really get it if I'd gleefully announced that my daughter JUST PEED IN THE BIG TOILET IN THE PUBLIC BATHROOM AT THE CUPCAKE PLACE.

I had to settle for sending Matt an instant message at work, and we shared a virtual emotional moment. (We've been worried about how Suzannah will handle our upcoming trip to Montana -- will she just not pee for five days? NOW what will we worry about?)

A day for cupcakes INDEED.