My Sunday Confession

As I sit at the computer I can hear my 2 year-old chanting “birthday cake” as he’s watching Curious George downstairs. He’s rather persistant calling up the stairs for someone to bring him birthday cake or “BDC” — a code my husband and I have given it. If he was sitting next to me I can envision him flashing his brilliant blue eyes and charming smile at me with each BDC demand.

Ever since he’s turned two he’s figured out what birthday cake is all about, but in his case, any dessert is called birthday cake.

When I was his age I loved pancakes, a request I made on a daily basis. My mother didn’t want to waste a whole pancake batter on a 3 year-old, so instead she would make me French toast and tell me it was pancakes.

So I’ve taken a page out of my mother’s book. My son now thinks bread with Nutella is birthday cake.  In recent months I’ve covered a layer of peanut butter with Nutella so at least he’s getting some protein during his snack.

This Mom’s heart is a sucker and melts when flashed with blue eyes and a charming smile.  At least I’m not wasting a whole batter of cake for one small slice of birthday cake.


3 responses

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