Birthdays. There are now 7 in our family, soon to be 8. This means that I only get 4 months a year that don't require cake. Birthday cake is one of those areas in which I aspire to Motherly greatness. Once or twice I've actually achieved it (see the Tinkerbell of 2011, Ballerina of 2006, or the Rainbow cupcakes of 2007). Yet, when it comes to my boys, they really allow me to lower my expectations. They are so easily pleased I'm sure I could throw a twinkie at them and they'd be thrilled.
Enter this year's birthday extravagance: Brigham wanted a cake with "cookies on it, or marshmallows on it, or bacon on it". The child has a thing for bacon and originally I was going to make a cake that looked like a strip of bacon - that would have been entertaining and memorable. Instead he got an in-pan confetti-laden number 3. BORING.
Kabe's was even worse. He wanted a Star Wars cake. I had grand visions but lacked the time. So instead I bought one of those horrid light-saber candies and stuck it on top with a big K7 on it (you know, like C3PO or something?) Yep. Major lame.
Still, I guess when it's all said and done, I did make them each a cake. And I did try to honor their wishes (to some extent). And we all ended the day completely sugared up.
This is why I have sons. They appreciate that I like to catch bugs and dig in the dirt and examine lizards and am willing to explore gross things. Ah balance. Here's hoping the next one is another boy - three frilly cakes a year is enough for me.