My birthday cake?

My birthday cake?

My birthday cake?

Mom made me a flower cake. But dad mangled it getting it out of the pan. He even dented the pan. Mom said it’s not his fault, he’s an oaf. Then he decorated it like a loon. Maybe he doesn’t know what a flower looks like? Oh well he tried. Mom says...

It’s my birthday!

It’s my birthday!

It’s my birthday!

When I came downstairs this morning (after keeping mommy awake most of the night – sorry, Mommy), I had a cool birthday present waiting for me. Now I have my own slide! Daddy is worried that I’m going to break my neck.