Here's Your F'n Birthday Cake

Me: "What kind of cake do you want?"

Him: "I don't need a cake."

Me: "Well, I KNOW you don't NEED a cake. But what kind of cake do you WANT?"

Him: "Don't worry about a cake."

Can I get away with this? Can I omit a cake for his birthday? What message does this send to the world? To his inner psyche? No, dammit, I must provide cake. Plus, let's face it, who doesn't like cake?

Me: "No, we have to have a cake. We have people coming for your birthday supper."

Him: "OK. Black forest cake."

Me: "Do you want a home made black forest cake or a bakery black forest cake?" Please say bakery, please say bakery.

Him: "One from the bakery. Do people even MAKE black forest cake? I've never heard of a home made black forest cake."

Nor will you ever, my friend. Nor will you ever.

I dodged a bullet there.

The other day he wanted chicken pot pie. OK. I can do this. Chicken pot pie, you say?

My kid doesn't sleep for a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the afternoon. It's pretty random and it varies day to day. Even if I put her down to nap at the same times each day, some days it's only a cat nap. Some days it's full-on slumber.

So here I am, rolling out pastry with a kid on my back in her MEC back carrier (thanks Courtney).

The chicken pot pie was delicious. We loved it. Deep down I cursed the fact that he was working and didn't get to witness the monumental struggle to get the damn pot pie into the oven.

Next time he wants chicken pot pie, it could very well be Swanson's.

*note: To soften the blow of these stressful culinary incidences, I like to casually tell people what I am making for dinner that night. "Yeah, I made a home made chicken pot pie for dinner." No big deal.