Last month Jared turned 34. Last year, on his 33rd birthday, he said that he was “officially in his mid-thirties.” I argued with him. But 34 is officially mid. For Jared’s birthday I tried to make him a cake. I used to be really good at cake making, well decent at least. Then someone took my gluten away and I it’s never really been the same. This attempt might go down as my biggest cake failure ever. It, as you can see, had the consistency of firm tar. Now, I do like fudgey things, but this was nasty oily fudge goo with the name cake attached to it but not resembling cake at all.
On Jared’s birthday evening the kids were playing outside, building snow forts and sledding until blood was shed. We always have a hard time calling them in when they are playing hard and giggling. So we didn’t. Then the babysitter showed up and the cake had not been presented to Jared yet. We told her to go ahead and serve it when the kids came in, we were going out to eat.
Step 1–serve half the “cake”
The next morning we decided that birthday cakes just need candles and a song.
Step 2–Stab the remaining “cake” with candles as if it were a voodoo doll.
Step 3–FIRE!LOTS OF FIRE!!!Step 4–everybody blow it out.A birthday cake for the ages.
This is how we roll.