It’s the 10 year old’s birthday.
The 8 year old was up first, in our bed asking when his sister would be up. And asking, and asking. Until she appeared. Grinning, because she’s in double figures now!
The lucky girl got a Kindle Fire. She got a Kindle Fire and was delighted.
The 8 year old wasn’t so happy. And sobbed. Because “IT’S NOT FAIR THAT SHE GOT A KINDLE FIRE”. We pointed out that he got enough birthday money, in January, to buy himself an ipod but chose to spend it ALL on LEGO. But still, he went to his room and sobbed, face down, into his pillow.
I decided to bake a cake, and with all things I do that require an oven I panicked and called the cake police, otherwise known as English Mum. I bake a cake once a year, usually for the 10 year old’s birthday – I see to forget the pain of the previous year, which is why everyone else gets shop bought cakes.
I decided to buy a pot of that cheaty Crocker icing stuff, except the local Coop didn’t have any. Stood next to the fridges I sent a panicked message to English Mum, who is nearly always on call.
It came time to ice my RED VELVET cake (not ‘red devil foo’ cake) where I decided to get advice about my cream cheese icing … except autocorrect got in the way, again.
As someone has just pointed out on Facebook “thank god she only bakes once a year”.
Happy birthday to my caring, contrary, never-be-rushed, beautiful, stubborn, always-has-to-have-the-last-word, funny, tall ten year old. You make everything a little bit more sparkly xxx