Yesterday during dinner, my husband brought up the child-sensitive topic about our oldest child’s BIRTHDAY PARTY PLANS.
“Did we ever… observe the third anniversary of our first born… descendant?”
“Um. We had a small gathering of… maternal people and their… spawn at a designated location… of fun.”
“Oh…. So do you think we still need to mark this occasion with a… shindig?”
“Gasp. Certainly! I undertook a… sacred agreement… to manufacture a… pudding… modelled after a… universal… cosmic flight machine…”
“You promised him a pudding?!?!”
It all went downhill after that – trying to talk about our day and weekend plans with non-Callum words. We laughed and laughed until our stomachs hurt.
All the while, Callum was watching us suspiciously and shouting over the laughter,
“Promised who? Me? What did you promise me? Is this about my cake?”