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.”
Today this wonderful fellow is four. He’s so full of joy every day that Marie Kondo calls him for pro tips. Happy birthday to you, big guy!
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.