My darling husband turned 48 yesterday and celebrated it in a way that any man would want to…with his 15 year old daughter and her best friend and hundreds of other kids and their crazy parents (mostly moms) at a Big Time Rush concert at the Stanislaus County Fair. I could have gone but then who would have helped Daniel make his daddy’s birthday cake?

:::back of hand to forehead:::

Oh the sacrifices!

No, not Bill!

Me!

Daniel and I created an epic red velvet layer cake for Bill. Then it came time to put candles on it and my thoughtful son became worried.

“Forty eight is a lot of candles.”

“Yes it is, son.”

“What if Dad can’t blow all of them out? Maybe we should use number candles.”

“Well if I can blow out forty nine candles why can’t Dad blow out forty eight?”

“But that’s a lot of candles.”

“Not more than forty nine.”

“I still think we should use the number candles.”

So we used the number candles because Daniel seemed genuinely worried that his old dad wouldn’t be able handle forty eight individual candles on his cake.

Judging Abby’s posture while she waited for her daddy to blow-the-candles-out-already it is probably a good thing that we made this difficult task as easy as possible for my old, younger-than-me husband.

The house might have burned down if he had to attempt extinguishing forty eight candles!

Happy birthday my darling husband. I know you are going to put fifty candles on my cake next year.

Go ahead.

Bring it!