Let's Party

What possessed me to think it was possible to cook AND clean for a party and expect it to stay tidy while I turn my back to prepare the food? My Birthday Boy is a 34lb human destroyer. He has a ridiculous collection of tractors, trucks and trains to play with but he would rather empty the contents of Hi Ho Cherry-O and CandyLand onto the playroom floor. Do I sense a theme here?

And cooking with small children? Brilliant idea. d2 offered to help me prepare the food and I said ‘yes.’ He must have waited until my daily pot of coffee was consumed. He knows good and well that I’m a lot more patient and I say ‘yes’ a lot more than usual when I have a caffeine high. Looking back, it probably wouldn’t have taken so long if I had done it myself. I lost count of how many times I had to stop and send him back to the sink to wash. Hands inside the back of your pants? Go wash. Nose picking? Go wash. Sneezing and couldn’t get your elbow to your nose in time so your hands caught the snot? Go wash. Hands inside the front of your pants? Go wash. And then I heard the, ‘What will happen?’ question a hundred times. ‘What will happen if I put my booger in this pudding?’ My boy is smart so I couldn’t understand why he kept asking me that question. I mean, do you really want to know the answer to that? Do you need me to verbally express to you that I will hurl you across the room if that spit you are slurping in and out of your mouth, the technique that was perfected by your father, lands in my baked beans? Guess I thought it was implied. I know this is just the phase he’s in right now, asking questions and testing boundaries but ask me a question on the transformation of a butterfly or something elementary like that. Don’t ask me a question you already know the answer and that never ends well for you. Oh, and no male genital questions, either.

In any case, little d3’s party went well yesterday. We had a family dinner and he had lots of fun. I made a cake and, in my personal opinion, it was a disaster. What was supposed to be a basketball on top of a goal looked more like the top half of a BigMac. Tinting of frosting is NO fun. I never get it to the shade I want. In no way do I believe I have a gift for baking because I just don’t. For the record, I wanted to make him an owl cake. The owl cake consisted of two colors of frosting – vanilla and chocolate. There is no manual tinting involved there. But D1 lobbied for the basketball because that’s what d3 does all day long. Yes, and he’s technically not even 2 until Thursday. At least d3 loves basketball AND he loves to eat so it was a win-win for him.







Happy Birthday, little guy! Mommy and Daddy love you to pieces! Bubby and Day-Day think you’re pretty cool, too! Oh, and feel free to slow this growing up process down...