Today is husband’s birthday.  Since we’ve just moved and everything is everywhere and I am still a stranger to my kitchen, I thought it best to buy a cake from a patisserie.  That’s the safest option.  I took our youngest daughter with me.

She was thrilled to be inside the cake shop, kept pointing at all the cakes and gushing at them, bouncing around with joy.  The sales lady was delighted by this, and started to talk to her.

“Are you buying a cake today?” she asked my daughter.

“Yes!” gushed my daughter.  “A BIG one!  For my dad!”  She declared.

Cake lady smiled at her, and asked “Oh!  Is it your dad’s birthday?  Or just a nice day to have cake?”

My daughter said “Well, it’s his birthday. And we are buying a cake. And we are going to put A FIRE ON IT!!! In a circle!”  She made a circle with her hands.

“A little fire, in a circle, on top of the cake!”

The lady’s smile began to fade, as my tiny daughter danced around growling “fire! fire!” in a deep voice.

I panicked and tried to leave as quickly as possible, but then remembered we hadn’t bought a cake yet.  I pointed to the cake nearest to the service counter, and threw money at the poor woman, grabbed my cake box, my daughter, and marched out of the shop, daughter still growling “FIRE!” as we bolted out the door.

“FIRE!!!”

Put daughter in car, cake safely in box beside me, and drove home, in a numb, red embarrassed silence.  My daughter eventually stopped growling “FIRE” and started naming the colours of the cars we passed on the way home.  I had all but forgotten the event until after dinner, when it was time to sing happy birthday.

I put the box upon the table with a big smile, and removed the lid with a flourish.

And that is how my husband ended up with a Dolly Varden cake for his birthday.