Let Them Eat Cake

My grandfather turned 74 on Saturday. He mentioned it in passing, while telling stories about the past, but I did not hear it then. I found out on Monday evening, and so yesterday, I did what my mother usually does when it's one of our birthdays - I baked a German chocolate cake and covered it with coconut pecan frosting.

I had told my grandfather we would have to have 74 candles, and then an extra, to mark his age and allow him a wish for the upcoming year. He always listens to me with laughter, his skepticism surely encouraged by the mischievous way I interact with him. I'm making up for 21 years of not knowing him, though, so I figure it's ok.

We ate the cake after dinner, first taking the requisite pictures and then singing him happy birthday as the candles glowed, spelling his age, with one standing alone below. He let us do this, finding it amusing, I'm sure, especially when we sang to him in a language he could not understand.

I spent today trying to avoid the cake and failing miserably.