20,000 Leagues Under the Twee: Here's Lookin' at You, Squid

I ordered this Nordic Ware octopus cake mold from Zulily years ago not because I like to bake but because it was cute.  What I didn't realize was that I could use it to make my beloved JELL-O, which the husband helpfully pointed out.  So when it came time to decide what to bring to my parents' Fourth of July BBQ, I thought, why not?  If nothing else, then at least the kids would get a kick out of it.

I decided to keep the mold intact until it was dessert time at the BBQ.  The plan was to unmold Mr. Octopus in the privacy of the kitchen, then bring him out once I knew that he wasn't missing a tentacle or, worse, just an amorphous heap of blue goo.  But that pipe dream went out the window when everyone gathered around, my five-year-old nephew and three-year-old niece front and center and eagerly waiting.  The husband made a valiant effort to shake the octopus from his cage, but that stubborn mollusk stayed put.  Time for a hot water bath!  While the husband sneaked off to the sink, I said, oh, he'll be coming out very soon!, fingers crossed that there'd be no mishaps followed by the inevitable crying.  But when the husband returned and flipped the mold, I heard the unmistakable glop signaling that all was well.   

"It's a sea monster!" exclaimed my niece.  "No, it's an octopus!" insisted my nephew.  Whatever it was, it made its wobbly way to the dessert table, where I garnished it with Swedish Fish.

Most of us sampled some topped with Reddi-Whip, along with my mom's flag cake and blueberry pie.    Even my mom herself, who hates anything artificial, gamely tried a spoonful or two.  Of course, she thought it tasted like bubble bath or little girls' perfume.  She wasn't entirely wrong.  

When it was time to schlep the leftovers into a bowl, I couldn't help but notice that the eyes were still eerily intact, haunting anyone who dared come back for seconds.

Cartoonish yet all-knowing, those pool blue peepers bring new meaning to seafood.