Fifteen

I’d protest that His Awesomeness cannot possibly be fifteen since I’m still in my twenties, but frankly I’m tired and my crows feet would sell me out in a heartbeat.  Right after The Diva did, that is.

Kids’ birthday parties are funny things.  Everything must be color coordinated and themed down to last minute detail.  We’ve been through Jay Jay the Jet Plane, Thomas the Tank Engine and countless others I’d just as soon forget.  I think the folks who think up all this birthday crap hoopla must be rolling in the dough because it costs a bloody fortune.  Not that my kid’s not worth it, mind you.  I’m just, well…cheap.

This year was way different.  At fifteen, who wants a theme?  Just show ’em some cash and call it a day.  I had strict instructions: plain plates, plain napkins and do not, for the love of all that is patriotic and holy, deviate from the color scheme.  Fine, I can follow instructions.  Plain red, yellow and green plates.  Are you sensing a theme?

Then he whips out the gift I’ve regretted gifting every since I gifted it: the iPod.  ‘I have a picture of the cake I want’, he proudly announced.  As long as it wasn’t too complicated or featured someone buxom and topless, I was game.

He wanted a Hemi engine cake.  I told him coming up with silver icing was out of my realm of expertise, but I’d see what I could do.  This is what I came up with.  Judge not.

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It was only after I’d finished it that I was informed the numbers were supposed to be on top.  And in orange.  But it was edible and there was no mutiny over my obvious faux pas, so life sallies forth and all is well.  As a side note, I must say that growing up, I always thought ‘hemi’ was short for ‘hemorrhoid’.  It wasn’t until I married a car freak that I was properly educated.

And even though he said ‘no decorations’, I just had to jazz up the table with something.  And yes, I threatened everyone about not getting goop on my Alexander Henry fabric.  A girl’s gotta have priorities, after all.

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He seemed happy and that’s what mamas want, isn’t it?

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Happy birthday, dude.  Mama loves ya!

 

 

 

 

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