October 01, 2007
Frosting
Nearly six years ago, The Girl Child turned one. As tradition dictates, she got her own little cake to do with as she pleased.
If memory serves, she was initially confused. She poked it with her round-tined fork a bit, looking quizically at the expectant audience surrounding her.
Billi got a little bit of the frosting on her pinky finger and shoved it in Girl Child's tiny, trusting mouth. Girl Child then plunged her entire head into the cake, and thus began her life-long love affair with buttercream.
Two years later, The Boy Child was in the same situation. He enjoyed the frosting... as long as Billi was feeding it to him. But when he got some on his hand, he immediately demanded a washcloth to get the sticky goo off his fingers.
(We worry about Boy Child.)
This weekend was The Spare's first birthday. It took him a while to get going with the cake. Personally, I think he was playing to the crowd and drawing it out on purpose. But once he got going, it was pure art.
He bulldozed the top layer of the teeny cake right off the bottom layer. He slapped it and stirred it until his entire fork and right hand were indistinguishable from the frosting.
Then he started flinging the mess onto his surroundings, which quickly caught the attention of Lucy the dog. It was at this point, out of fear for her walls, that Billi decided to take the cake away from The Spare. And the wailing commenced.
I love that kid.