Yesterday, Oliver turned seven-and-a-half. It was his half-birthday. It’s not something we normally celebrate, but he’s just at the age where every little bit of his advancing age is important to him. He thinks about growing up all the time. He wonders when a person actually becomes a grown-up. “Is it after university? Is that four years after high school? And then you’re a grown-up? Whoa.”
He recently broke it down for me like this: “Well, first I was a baby, then I was a kid… then I was a bigger kid… and then was an Oliver, like I am now… then I’ll be a teenager, and then I’ll be a grown-up.” (Isn’t that just the cutest thing?)
And since growing up is first and foremost in his mind, as has been for months, he’s been harassing me at every turn to remind him EXACTLY when he turns seven-and-a-half. And can we PLEASE measure him in the doorway on that very day, so he can be sure he’s growing, because he’s worried that he isn’t very tall. (Based on genetics, I have rather sad news for this child…)
Now, before you go thinking I make birthday parties out of thin air, and begin to hate me for it, you all need to understand a few of the finer points of ease here…
On Sunday, my kids woke up and asked me if we could bake a cake. After a whole morning of eye-rolling and ohmygodyouguysleavemealooooone-ing, I caved and helped them mix up the stupid boxed cake with Betty Crocker on it. We made two nine inch cakes, only they decided they didn’t want a layer cake – just some frosting and sprinkles on the one, thanks.
So what was I supposed to do with the other cake, still in it’s pan with plastic wrap on it?
Right. I cut it in half, threw some frosting in the middle to sandwich the two halves, frosted the entire outside of it, shook some sprinkles out of the shaker-thingie, and threw it on a cake stand. Voila! A half birthday cake with almost no real effort:
But I swear, I never would have thought to do such a thing if all the stuff hadn’t been staring right at me. I even had seven and a half candles. And I made the crown in forty seconds, because we have construction paper and glue and foam-letter stickers all over the freaking place, because my kids are maniacs for the crafting sometimes. (I wouldn’t have gone to the store to get a single thing – believe me.)
I think I’ve mentioned before how awesome our neighbourhood is – specifically, about how many kids are constantly milling about. A lady can bring a half-birthday cake out to her front stairs, and have ten kids or so ready to sing “Happy Half-Birthday” to her little kid, wish him well, and have some eats.
A birthday party made out of thin air. That’s at least seven-and-a-half shades of awesome.
Some of these kids don’t even live on our street. But they’re here almost every day.
Because our street is FUN, yo!
It was a good time. It was pretty good cake too! And my boy was surprised and very pleased, I think. He’s even grown a little bit, since February…
And in case you were wondering, we didn’t do any gifts – this impromptu party was more than enough. (I’m not crazy, you know.)
PS – I got these ideas from some very dear friends of mine, who make mutherhood look like a competitive sport, and who are both completely #winning at it. Anny and Elizabeth… you make everything look so freaking easy, and you both officially join Martha Stewart on my
shitlist list of people who make my life hard. (Just kidding!!)