It’s my youngest son’s birthday today. He’s officially hit teenagerhood. I offered to make him a birthday dinner. Anything he wants. “No thanks.” We eat together as a family at least five nights a week. Most of those meals are made by me, from scratch. So, a family dinner isn’t special for him. “What about a cake?” He shrugged. “Nah.” I love baking. Right now there are brownies on the counter. Last week there was a pile of molasses-spice cookies in the jar.
What he wants is a store-bought ice cream cake. So, that’s exactly what he’s getting. With sprinkles.