This week I told my eight year old it was his half birthday. He immediately said, “I want a half cake... we could put half a smiley face on it.”
We’re making cookies with some of the leftover Halloween candy.
I’m not Martha Stewart class when it comes to cakes - I may not even be Iron Sheik class yet. But the robot cake was a big hit with the first graders at today’s birthday party so I’ve got that going for me.
Or at last it seemed like one when I was making breakfast for everybody.
Once again we ran the "Owen's too sick for day care" playbook. Then Owen did something that wasn't in the playbook: he diagnosed himself.
I'm glad to see this ongoing series of sicknesses get cancelled, or at least sent back to preproduction for the time being.
I asked Owen this morning if he knew who won the Super Bowl and he nodded. "Who was it?" I asked. "Mama," he said, proudly.
In the Pie Day bakeoff, my only chance to overcome a complete lack of technique was stark pandering.
Owen and I had the least interesting week in the history of bachelors - so we made up for it by watching Black Sabbath videos on YouTube.
Toddler Owen is a talented and versatile fellow, so much so that he's started taking on some household tasks.