cake and candles

S. made me a birthday cake on Sunday. "No fruit and no cream cheese," I said, as she looked at recipes on the internet.

"Hey!" she said, "I'm the one making this cake."

So I shut up and lay down on the couch to nap in the sunlight while she puttered through the kitchen and N. watched Heroes on his laptop in the recliner.

I woke up 90 minutes later to the delicious smell of chocolate cake, that turned out to be frosted in chocolate coconut frosting, with no fruit or cream cheese in sight.

"I am going to videotape singing!" I said, getting out my camera.

"You are not going to videotape singing," S. said.

"Yes, I am!" I said, "and I'm going to post it on the internet someday if I need to."

She brought out the cake with candles in an M shape, and I turned on the camera.

"Blow out the candles," she said, and I refused. "Sing the birthday song," I commanded. "I am videotaping the birthday song."

"Apparently you are not," N. said, putting the computer away, "because I don't hear any singing."

"Blow out the candles before they burn the cake," he said.

S. said. "One of the candles is really short."

"I am not blowing out any candles until you sing the birthday song," I insisted, and finally N. started in with "Happy Birthday toooooo yooooou," dirge-like, and S. joined in, and I videotaped it while laughing in the background.

"This will be on the internet," I warned them, but of course I am not posting it. Yet. I need to keep some ammunition in reserve.