There is something weird and magical about receiving a cake on your birthday. It’s like an award for a super achievement of existing or more bluntly an excuse for others to eat cake.
It’s been awhile since I got a cake on my birthday. One could say I have grown out of the tradition. So when I had a call to come over for cake I was surprised and even more surprised when I realized it wasn’t my name on the cake.
As is evident in the picture my dear sisters now refer to me as the father of my son. Sweet as it is it makes one wonder if this is how things will be in the future. I wonder if on his birthday he shall receive a cake with “Paul’s son” inscribed on the top.
A more important question though is whether the existence of my new found love (my son) is the reason for the cake in the first place…..well no time for that now. Let’s just eat the damn cake and be merry.
Mmmmmm after a slice of that wonderful cake I now understand why the above happened. It’s revenge for me not naming him Paul Forjoe III. (I am named after my Dad)