Jack recently had a birthday, and as I told him when he was born that I would do every year, I made his birthday cake. I was pretty proud of that cake; it took me WAY TOO long to do something so simple. I am not a baker!!!! But Jack loved it. It reminded me of his 1st birthday, when I made the same cake for him (hey, no judgments - he WANTED Winnie again). It took me three days or something like that when I did it the first time. When he turned one, though, we brought out the cake, sang to him, and while he was sitting in his hi-chair, we proceed to cut the cake. Well, he was one, and Winnie was his hero. He did not take kindly to the idea back then that we were "cutting up" his hero. Since that fateful day, we've tried to avoid that same situation by discussing in the weeks before his birthday that cake is SUPPOSED to be cut up.
I am not a big fan of this "my baby is growing up" thing. On his birthday, I woke him up and asked him, "Jack, do you know what happened 4 years ago today?' In a tired and somewhat exasperated voice, he said, "Mom, you birthed me."
With a big smile on my face, I told him, "You better believe I did, Bubba."