Bright and early this morning I was woken by my 3 year old little monkey jumping on my bed. Stupidly I say, "Can we sleep just a little longer, it's mama's birthday."
Yeah, say it's a birthday to a 3 year old who has been to a few birthday parties that involve cake a fun.
"Oh, mama, it's your birt-day? Oh, we have cake, we sing Happee Birt-day to You."
No, I don't think we'll have cake. Or sing Happy Birthday. Who would make mama's cake?
And this precious boy looks at me like I've asked the world's dumbest question and sighs, "Mama, you always make the birt-day cakes."
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