19 and counting

It's my little one's birthday.  I've got to make a cake.  And set out a small pile of presents, and a card that gushes about what a great kid she's been and all the great things that lie ahead for her.  It's a formula that's been in place for many years at our house and it's served us well.  I must say my job has gotten so much easier as they've grown.  No more trays of cupcakes to somehow transport to school, taking every corner at 5 mph hoping against hope that the little plastic dogs/flowers/dinosaurs on top of each mound of multi-colored frosting won't slump over and slide into its neighbor.  No more huge 'creatively themed' birthday parties to throw, complete with 'creatively themed' invitations, favors and food to top the extravaganza from the year before.  No more panic attacks as all the kids from the third grade class show up for a pool party, sans parents, and try to out-do each other for the most creative skull-cracking dive into the pool. No more trying to make it home in a balloon stuffed car with absolutely no peripheral vision without slamming into someone or something.  No toy stores to stalk, bikes to hide, banners to hang, songs to sing, even, dare I say, candles to light.  It's all become rather streamlined and simple.  She wants a vanilla cake filled with strawberries and whipped cream.  Her favorite.  A click on Amazon.com should take care of the rest.  But I better get to that card, I've got an awful lot of gushing to do...