Last Tuesday was Mister Man's birthday, and we were in Florida. I reluctantly agreed that I couldn't make him a homemade cake (although we're celebrating at home tomorrow with our traditional dinner of his choice and homemade cake of his choosing, apple this year), but we still had to do a birthday. He chose an ice cream cake, and I prepared.
As I packed my bags, I made sure to include candles so that he could blow them out. I started to pack matches, too, before realizing that airline security would confiscate them since I wasn't checking any bags. That's ok. Restaurants always have matches sitting around, and I could just grab one from somewhere we went, right?
That indoor clean air movement? That means no one smokes inside. Which means restaurants don't have matches anymore. I asked; trust me. Neither did the hotel we stayed at. Oops.
That doesn't mean we didn't still have candles and sing to him and have him ummmm (pretend to) blow them out. After all, it's a birthday tradition, right?
Tomorrow? I've already checked. We have matches in spades. And candles. Now to figure out how to make an apple cake....
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