On Tuesday, Garrett's second to last day of preschool, our friend took him because we were out of town. Along the way he informed her that he wanted a fire cake for his birthday at Lake Tahoe. (It just so happens that we'll be in Tahoe on July 20 which, I happen to think, is the best place ever to celebrate turning
I was stumped.
"Garrett, honey, what kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" I asked him later.
"A fire cake!"
"What's a fire cake?"
"You know, with flames going, 'squiasquiaferrrr,' all over it." He replied and made quick flick-type motions with his fingers.
I was so confused. I imagined that he wanted me to set fire to his cake and the only dessert I could think of was creme brulee--which I'm pretty sure he's never had. (I had the most delicious creme brulee from Todai while Troy and I were on our two day getaway but that's really neither here nor there.) "I don't actually know what you mean. Do you think that any old cake would do?" I asked.
If looks could break hearts in two the one I received would surely have killed me. It was desperately dejected. "Okay," he sighed.
I tried cheering him up by telling him how awesome it would be. He seemed unconvinced. Later I called my mom and asked her if she had a clue what a fire cake was. She didn't. After we brainstormed and decided that we could make a cake and stick a fire truck on top I said something to the effect of, "Does he want me to light his cake on fire?"
And that's when it dawned on me. That's the precise moment that I realized what my little boy meant. Do you have any idea? Am I the only one who didn't have a single solitary clue what my kid was talking about?