When the kids were little, I was several steps ahead of the game when it came to the celebration of their birthdays.
If my preschooler was into dinosaurs? I crafted a cake complete with volcano, trees, and dinosaurs of both the herbiferous and carniverous varieties.
If the child in question was into knights? There was sure to be a castle cake, with candles on the towers, and a functioning portcullis.
As the kids got older, the cakes became simpler affairs, but they still kept to minimal standards. Namely, on time, favorite kind, and correct number of candles.
That is, until the barrage of permission slips, piercing requests, and texting plans got the better of me and I began to fall behind the eight ball.
Case in point:
Julie had a birthday recently.
When the kids were in school,I got the cake made. It was even the requested kind
chocolate on chocolate. Is she my girl or what?
It was on time.
But I kind of forgot about the candles. Never even checked to see if we had any.
I made the cake when the kids were in school, then ran out to pick up Daniel. By the time I got back, Rosie had prettied up the cake with some sprinkles, and added the candles. This is what it looked like:
Rosie found 12 birthday candles in the pantry, plus a number '2' candle. So she arranged the 12 candles, then broke a toothpick in half to make a plus sign, and then added the '2'.
I said to her, "What is all this?"
"Isn't it obvious? 12 + 2 = 14."
And that's how birthday cakes are done once you enter the realm of teenagers.
Or the realm of Moms-too-busy-to-make-sure-we-have-birthday-candles.
I guess they are one and the same realm.
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