A small girl with a lamb cake on a fifth birthday.

April 17, 2015

She was going to be five.  Five whole years old and all she wanted was a lamb cake for her birthday.  Not a cake, made of lamb... she had never eaten lamb before but was certain it would be highly inappropriate as a birthday cake.  A small, chocolate cake with light frosting and a little plastic lamb figurine sitting on top would do fine.   The toy in mind was one she played with every day and it would make an excellent cake topper.

On that 12th of July, the day she turned five, there was a large pink cake on a shiny slab of foil covered cardboard.  The frosting was light and slightly whipped in texture to appear as wool-like as possible.  Four cherries, cut in half, supplied the hooves.  Ears, face and tail lovingly cut out of various individually baked cakes representing hours of Mom's hard work. Mom was proud of the cake, but also irritated just a little.  It wasn't quite exactly as she had hoped.  Maybe there were a few mishaps along the way.  Icing here and there having caught the dark chocolate cake underneath, tiny dark morsels peppered throughout and were possibly visible in the surface once evenly spread if one were to look close enough.

The Girl child did not look close, for the distant view she held when she walked through the door for the happy birthday song was quite sufficient.  The immediate disappointment when she didn't see her requested lamb figurine atop the simple cake she'd imagined was simultaneously overtaken by the vast superiority of the second cake.  Broad and plentiful, the birthday cake looked appetizing and she loved the cherries for hoofs.  Cherries were one of her favourite things to eat, even if she hadn't known or even decided so until that very moment.  She hoped she could have one of the hooves as her slice when the cake was cut.  Even if it was a shame to have to cut it at all.  The delectable chocolate cake inside was begging to be eaten.

I suppose this month is making me think of all the birthdays I've had over the years, planning for Piper's first.  Choosing little presents and wondering whether she'll ever care at all what I do on this April 26th.  This birthday, I've decided, is for we the parents.  Piper will never remember (even though I have this weird persisting theory that I have memories of my first birthday) so the celebration is more for reflection and celebration of us.  We have survived the first year.  That milestone is precious, but also its just more fuel for my nostalgic syndrome.  The daily wishing and thirsting for the fresh, new days of motherhood.  When the air was filled with spring like it is now and my soft, pristine baby rested outside my body in a basket.  Mornings were fresh and new for it was always a thrill to feel the ache in my body and remember that she is born.  All mine to look at.  (Ahem.  My baby was a really nice newborn.  Less nice after 2 months, but a VERY agreeable newborn)  Happy Friday!

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