There they were: twenty-four little monster faces staring up at me from their cupcake heads. I met their tiny candy eyes. Oh yeah? I thought. Does your birthday boy have nineteen kids coming to his bouncy house party? I looked at the perfect beribboned yellow gift bags, destined for their perfectly decorated party room. I think not. I looked at my completely adequate mini cupcakes, with little frosted peaks bedazzled by sprinkles and sugar. A half hour ago, I was proud of my mastery of the frosting gun. I thought the cupcakes looked nice. Not so much now.