My youngest, Joe, turned 3 almost three weeks ago. One would think I would remember his age well. I vividly remember my pregnancy, and his birth. Who could forget getting themselves cut open and a doctor pulling another human out of your stomach? Yeah, I remember it well. Well, I apparently couldn’t remember that it all happened three years ago. Take a look:
Yep! I told the baker Joe was turning 2. The best part of this whole thing? I didn’t even notice the error. I was too enthralled with how great the cake looked to notice there was anything wrong. It took the husband one second. He looked at the cake and instead of getting excited like I was (okay, he wouldn’t get that excited over a cute cake no matter what) he said, “Why does it say he’s 2?” I said, “What?” The husband then pointed out the number 2 on the cake. God bless the husband, he assumed the baker made the mistake. Nope, it was me. I checked the emails to the baker and right there in bold letters I said Joe was turning 2. It was all Mama’s fault. In fact, the baker offered to change it to a 3, but I told her no way, it will make for a great story someday, either around the dinner table or in the therapist’s office!
Reposted with permission from Boisenewsmom.com