December 11th is a birthday for three generations: Sam's Grandpa, my Dad, and little Mr. Ky-guy. We imagine his grandpa and great-grandpa were probably there celebrating with us, unless they had some better heavenly party to go to (not impossible, I suppose). Still, our earthly party was pretty good. It began with pancakes. A birdie for Malachi, of course:
And later, a birdie cake as well. His birdie cake was apparently the only thing he remembered from last year and it was the only thing he kept asking for this year. "Will I have a birdie cake again?" We obliged, of course. Who could ever resist that boy?
It was a buttermilk cake with caramel frosting. The dark brown on top is pure caramel, and the off-white is caramel with milk and powdered sugar added. It was GOOD.
He was pleased.
Then his present. Can you guess what it was?
Another birdie. A big bally one. About which Ky says "I will name him Jingle-y birdie, even though he is not really jingle-y." Ky can hardly carry him, but he loves him. He told us the next morning when he woke up, "Last night I thought my big birdie was a basketball."
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