Happy Birthday to Me

Not really. My birthday is six months hence.

BUT, my children’s babysitter is having a birthday, which means birthday cake in our house. And, really, any time there’s birthday cake, I feel as if it’s my own. Is that wrong?

Some women want a big fancy wedding dress. Some want thousands of dollars of flowers. I wanted cake, so we had an awesome cake when we married.

I believe quite firmly that cake can improve any situation. Wrestling with query letters? Cake. Rough days ahead? Have some cake. No time to get to the gym? Cake is a good substitute. Baby not sleeping? Cake for you. 

So, happy birthday, Maddie. I’ll be your cake twin.


Full disclosure: that is not the birthday cake. Birthday Cake is not carrot.