By some miracle, Rivers was patient enough to allow me to bake mini pop tarts this week. It’s the first time since he was born that I’ve baked dessert, which is quite a long time for a pastry cook to go without expressing her creativity. Even the oven was beginning to get lonely. My kitchen assistant wore himself out, gnawing on cloth napkins and dancing to the music that is constantly playing when the the room is alive with food preparation. He woke up just in time to challenge his mama to frost all of the tarts with one hand.