Let Them Eat Cake or One, Two, Three, Four, Five. Senses Working Overtime. Part II

About a year ago my four year old daughter laid eyes on one of those 3-D doll cakes at the local bakery. It was Pepto-Bismal pink with a real Barbie stuck in the middle, giving a regal wave from her icing laden hoop skirt. My girl was beyond smitten.

'MOMMY WHEN I TURN FIVE I WANT THIS CAKE FOR MY BIRTHDAY.'

She spoke all in caps back then, everything was cranked up to eleven. These days she is able to modulate her volume thanks to her kindergarten teacher but back then we pretty much wore ear plugs all the time.

Anyhow, I figured I had a year for her to forget about it so of course being the chump that writes this blog, I said she could have it for her fifth birthday.

She didn't forget.

Have you ever priced one of those cakes? Well I had no clue how much it would cost but let's put it this way: when I asked the baker how much is that cakey in the window her answer made the back of my head blow off. Perhaps our daughter can have THAT cake for her wedding.

But our daughter didn't understand that her parents actually have a financial cap on iced confectionery displays of love and her request had just surpassed it by a long mile. No Barbie cake for you my dear.

She went through all the stages of grief over the cake:

Denial: I WILL have that cake.
Anger: Get me that cake or I'm telling everyone that you are the worst mommy in the world. BECAUSE YOU ARE.
Bargaining: Mommy, if you get me that cake you never EVER need to get me a cake ever again for any of my birthdays.
Depression: I guess I will have the worst birthday ever this year because *sigh* I won't have that cake.

Wait. She never made it to the stage of Acceptance.

Well she didn't need to make it to that stage of acceptance because today is her 5th birthday and guess what her mom did? No, I didn't buy the cake... I BAKED IT.

Now I'm no wiz in the kitchen but a friend had the pan (thanks Elisa!) and in a moment of insanity I thought 'how hard can this be? I'll make it myself.'

And you know what? It turned out fine. Sure, sure, it's not Barbie and it's far from perfect and she kinda looks like a pink hooker in a hoop skirt because her icing bustier keeps melting off leaving just a few modesty dragees over her nipples but hey, I MADE IT and she will love it. I hope.

For an extra twenty she'll let you do body icing shots.

Today my girl is five years old and I love her more than this keyboard can ever express.

Happy Birthday Little G, mommy loves you more than cake.

Part 1 referred to in the title is here.