Monday, April 23, 2012
Peanut turned Panda turned Cowboy turned 6 year old.
The Peanut-turned-Panda-turned-Cowboy turned six a few weeks ago and had pretty much the best birthday ever. Nanny (that would be my Mom) made him a cake on the day before his birthday when we came over for dinner. He thought it was pretty amazing to be getting TWO cakes-one from her and the other from me.
On his actual birthday, Matt was supposed to be out of townall week and that was pretty depressing for everyone involved. I decided that perhaps inviting Matts parents over for cake might brighten the birthday boys spirits and, in a very small way, make up for missing his Papa.
But after dinner and after presents, what should appear but two headlights in the driveway; two headlights that drove almost four hours home so they could share in Da-Doo's birthday bash.
So yeah. Best birthday ever.
Andrew struggled for days with the terribly difficult decision of choosing a cow, a dragon or a skeleton cake. Eventually, he could bear it no longer and told me he wanted me to surprise him.
(Between you and I, this was my favorite option!)
Knowing my Cowboy-Farmer well, I knew it had to be (yet ANOTHER) cow cake. And knowing my own limits well, I knew the cow would be plastic and not sugar.
We went to Wegmans bulk candy section and I told each child they could pick ONE piece of candy. I have never done this before and the children were amazed at their luck. The choice of ONE candy took longer than my finding and bagging up all the candy I would need for the cake (rootbeer barrels, gray M&Ms, tootsie rolls, and a bit of Mary Jane sweetness. It worked out smashingly well, I might add.
Andrew was shocked and awed by the cake, which is the point after all. He told me later that he loves the surprise cakes I make because they have presents on them.
I get the idea that this will be his method for the foreseeable future. All to get more "hard plastic cows", he calls them. Not cows. Not toy cows. Not soft plastic cows. Hard plastic cows.
And there IS a difference, you know.
Also that day we went and got him his very own library card. Oh-what a day it was. A six-year olds dream.
Or, at least, MY six year olds'.