A Dog Day Disaster

Caden has been planning this birthday for 2 years.

Last March we were in the midst of trauma and drama and planning a birthday party for a newly minted 8 year old fell off the to-do list.  I carry the mother guilt of his disappointment over his never got around to actually doing 8th birthday party so promise after promise over the last 12 months focused on this his 9th.

He had it planned to the most minute detail.

A Pinata.  Mostly because he has never had one before.

A Treasure Hunt.  Because he is a 9 year old boy.

A Mystery Meal of Gross and Disgusting Foods.  See above.

A Train Cake made and decorated by mom.  Because that is the first birthday cake he remembers having, and he loved it and he wanted it again. 

No matter WHAT happened this birthday had to go off without a hitch because there is nothing quite so poignant as the hopes and dreams of your baby boy. 

And so I shopped and planned and bought and invited. 

And Baked.  Yes BAKED. 

Now we have covered this before.  We all know that baking and cooking aren't exactly my best qualities.  HOWEVER, I have pulled of a couple supremely awesome birthday cakes in years past and Caden's expectations were high, based mostly on his recollections of his 3rd birthday and how much he loved his train cake that year.  We all know that impressing a 3 year old is much easier than impressing a 9 year old.  And more importantly, impressing his friends.   Also, his memory is fuzzy.

The day before party, while babies slept, I began the process.  The cake would be 5 feet long and placed on a long 2X4 with a KitKat bar track.  Each section of train would have a different candy cargo and would alternative with chocolate and vanilla cake.  It was cool. 

I iced and cut, molded and planned.  I was happy. 

I didn't bother taking pictures because I was going to wait until Caden could see the cake at his party.

THAT was a mistake. 

I took the nearly finished cake and placed it outside on our screened in porch.  I placed it about 5 feet off the ground balanced on top of box that was placed on top of the table.

THAT was a mistake.

Then I put the dogs outside for a romp. 

THAT was a mistake. 

The rest of the day was a blur of planning and RSVPs and making dinner and changing diapers and I never went to check back on the cake.

THAT was a mistake. 

The morning of the party dawned bright and clear.  Or maybe that was ominous.  Caden was vibrating from excitement.  Guests were due to arrive shortly after lunch and I was running around hanging banners and doing last minute clean ups. 

I went outside to bring in the cake.  You know that Train Cake that my son had been planning on for TWO YEARS?

The engine piece was icing free.  The chocolate "log transport" piece was completely gone.  There were bite marks on the pieces that were left. 

At the moment of discovery my 12 year old came out of his bedroom and said "The stupid dog puked all over my bed during the night mom".

I would hereby like it to be known that the fact my dogs are still alive is a testament to my self control.  The fact that I didn't swear and throw things is a testament to the fact my mother had dropped by. 

I sat dumbfounded.  I facebooked.  I honestly did not know what to do. 

What I did not do is kill the dogs. 

THAT was a mistake.  (I am pretty sure anyways)

Shel raced to the store and bought the least girlie slab cake they had.  I scrounged candy that I had at home and fancied it up. 

I hugged my son and told him I was so very sorry. 

We had a party.  9 year old boys do not care about the amount of time it takes to decorate a cake.  What they care about is that the pieces of cake are BIG.

My sweet, sensitive, loving Caden crawled into my lap after the party and said "This was the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE Mommy.  I love you."

I smiled.   Then I put the leftover slab cake out on my porch, on top of a box, on top of the table.

And then I let the dogs out for a romp. 

Apparently I do not learn from my mistakes. 

We never got seconds.