I guardedly ask what he means. He's somewhat unclear. Vanilla. New York City. Buildings rising toward the sky. We discuss the birthday cake all day.
"I can't do that," I reply. "I can make it flat, like a picture." Because I am no cake decorator.
I mix up The Pioneer Woman's Best Chocolate Sheet Cake. Ever.
"Chocolate?" He asks, disappointed. Yes.
It was a delicious cake. I had it baked and frosted,with my dishes washed in 30 minutes. Easiest cake. Ever.
He peers through the oven window. "Will it puff up?"
"No, it will be flat like a picture."
"Oh, COME ON." Huh...he's passionate about that New York City cake. Helpful siblings plot elaborate schemes for propping up that flat-as-Texas-sheet cake. I remain steadfast. I am no cake decorator.
Later Kara and I were looking for a photo of the New York City skyline (as you'll soon see, it made little difference to the final cake). We came across CakeFiction and watched the slide show of hundreds of perfect cakes, even, yes, a New York City cake. I feel like a terrible mom. But I can't help it, I am no cake decorator.
As a conciliatory measure I let him exercise his discretion over the sprinkles. And he smiled in the end.
Today at Hobby Lobby I glanced at the sign up sheet for the Wilton Cake Decorating classes. Just a glance. I'm no cake decorator, and I don't want to be one either.