The Last Piece of Birthday Cake

19 Dec

Mama:  “How old are you Isabella?”

Bella: “FOURTEEN!”

My stomach drops when she declares that she is a teenager.   I thought it was a fluke but she says it every time I ask.  I examine her closely to make she that she isn’t in fact fourteen, she is growing up so quickly after all, perhaps twelve years flew past while we slept.  Then she hops “like a froggy” over to her toy basket, exclaims that it is Bert and Ernie’s nap time, takes them, a pillow and a blanket into the kitchen and tucks them in.  Phew, she is still two.

We had a week full of birthday celebrations, parties, coloring, crafting, dancing, a morning at the Please Touch Museum.  We sang Happy Birthday, complete with lit candle, every time Isabella had a slice of birthday cake this week.   10 times, I think.

And the cake?  The cake was delicious.  A great success.  After days of contemplating flavors and design, I settled on seven layers, alternating strawberry and vanilla all cloaked in cream cheese frosting in shocking shades of pink and orange.  Yo Gabba Gabba’s stars circled the exterior and Isabella walked around the cake pointing to each character and declaring them hers.  She was right.


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