Not to worry, though—this one comes to you angst-free.
Yay, right? That river of insecurity is more of a gentle…stream this morning. Must be the good night of sleep, the sun that is shining, and that chirp-chirpy bird in the tree I’m hearing.
Oh, and that cup of French Roast didn’t hurt.
So. The cake. Jem had a couple of friends spend the night last night, so we saved his birthday cake until then. It’s a Lethal Peppermint Chocolate cake, found in this cookbook which was a gift from Charlotte.
“Look,” she told me, “Stop calling me for all my recipes. I’m just going to get you your own copy of the book.”
She just thought it.
The cake was delish—simply decorated but delish—though I apologize for the maniacal look on Jem’s face. It’s a 13-year-old boy thing. Also, his hair’s all wet because of a water fight with his father.
After we’d lit the candles and sung The Birthday Song, (as opposed to, say, The Barney Song), Jem reached out and, with his thumb & forefinger, started extinguishing his candles by hand.
(We call this “titzing” the candles on account of the sound it makes. It’s a manly-man thing that my husband promotes.)
“Jem,” I demanded, ever the control freak mom and greatly concerned by his lack of protocol, “What are you doing?”
He stopped after titzing two of the candles and grinned. “Those are all my girlfriends.”
Postscript: Please do try to stop back later—I have a massive recap of the 14th Annual MN Home Education conference. Massive.