The case of the bent tart pan

Found in the clutter that was K’s closet:

tart-pan

My tart pan. Why is my tart pan in her closet, jammed together with sweatshirts, bits of toys, empty boxes and all matter of kid detritus? How in the world did a tart pan figure in to whatever project or make-believe session she was doing? And when? One surmises it’s been there for awhile. Interestingly, the tart pan bottom was in a whole other area. Both are rather worse for their adventure in said closet.

So when you come to my house for fruit tart, pretend not to notice the big wave right in the middle.

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