My wife’s family forgot her 16th birthday. Totally forgot. January 14, 1988 came and went with nary an acknowledgement that she had turned 16.
The moment has stayed with her forever.
Now that she is a mother of two young boys, she makes certain that not only are their birthdays not forgotten, but they are a very big deal.
A flood of balloons, and boxes covers the table before they’ve even had their cereal. Birthdays must be celebrated ALL DAY LONG in her books, not just for a few hours at night. When Charlie celebrated his 3rd birthday this past weekend, he had the big Birthday Boy treatment with gifts, a visit to the Lego Store to play with the bricks, and then dinner out at his favorite restaurant where they serve noodles and garlic toast.
Then we came home for cake. The cake is a VERY big deal to my wife. Huge. Massive. As in I forgot the cake one year because I don’t think it’s a big deal and she almost left me. It’s a big deal.
But there’s a problem: my wife and I are classic exhibits of Pinterest Fail when it comes to baking.