I told you that the last day of 2008 was going to be great…
Our 11yo ballerina brought me breakfast in bed with instructions to stay in our room for the morning. I happily complied. A morning in bed? Oh, yeah, that's perfectly fine with me! I have my laptop, Pride and Prejudice, a journal…I'm okay with not coming out all day, if need be.
This is what greeted me when I was finally allowed entrace to the kitchen…
Yep. That's my birthday cake – 2 cakes and 2 cans of frosting – and its 11yo baker. Oh, and the 38 candles that nearly didn't fit on it. But, whatever. Who's counting?
My reaction to the masterpiece was glowing. "Oh! How utterly perfecto! I looove it! It's so pretty." Her 8yo brother who was there, said, "Not really. It's kind of a mess."
Our 11yo baker said, "Yeah, it sort of fell apart when I was stacking it." What you can't see is that it broke into 4 big chunky sections, like 4 Leaning Towers of Overly Candled Cake. She took a photo of it and sent it to my mom, who called me in hysterics, cry-laughing. Cry-laughing is contagious, but I tried to stiffle it.
Daddy said, "Wow," when he saw it. And then he saw my Warning Eye. The one that lets him know I'm onto the twinkle in his, and he'd better not say anything less than wow.
Her 13yo brother said, "Whoa. That's just…hideous." Then he ate more than anyone else.
It's the messiest looking cakes that taste the best.