Ezekiel made it very clear that he wanted Swedish pancakes for his birthday breakfast, unadulterated by anything but maple syrup and cherry jam. Or was it his bossy sisters who made it clear that he wanted them? Hm. No matter.
We tried singing to him about four times, and each time he blew out the candle immediately after Annika lit it, after we'd only sung the first few words of "Happy Birthday." He's an efficient boy.
Ready?
*Poof!*
Also customary was our sighting of the dreaded Birthday-Pancake-Head Monster. Gives me chills just to look at it...
My folks came up and gave him a couple of gifts. (I gave him nothing because I'm scroogy.)
He's so enamored with vehicles of any kind that he ignored his bag of smarties in favor of his new truck! That boy's missing my genes, for sure.
His cake-- simple, easy, and sensible for this Very Large Girl. With cars! Because he'd eat a styrofoam cake as long as it included a few matchbox cars.
The pattern continued that night for the evening singing. Light the candle- poof! Light the candle- poof!
John gently restrained him until the magic moment,
and then, poof!
Yum. Styrofoam.
Happy birthday, little puppy! We're so glad you're ours!
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