Mr. Fancy Feet's Moose Cake

Remember who these belong to??

Well, it was Mr. Fancy Feet's birthday last week.  He officially turned four, which means I am four years older than when I had him, which is sort of depressing, so we shall not discuss aging until I've had at least one more cup of coffee.  Never mind. Let's not discuss it at all.

As many of you know, birthdays around here consist of two very important traditions:

1.  Birthday Breakfast - cinnamon rolls followed by... 

gifts from the brothers.....

(Is the brother with the inside-out-and-backwards shirt heroic or what?  Keeping the laundry flow low cuts right to my heart, man!)

followed by...

the ceremonial viewing of photos of the birthday dude from birth to present and a smothering with hugs and kisses.

2.  The official birthday cake.

So, if Henry's socks are any indication of his current field of interest, what kind of a cake do you think he asked for. Sports? Nope, too easy. Tractors?  That was so 2010.  Super-heroes?  Naw.  Moose?  BINGO!

"Ohhhh, Lord!" I says to myself. Then, in a panic, I begin to graph a strategy of negotiation in my mind in hopes of outsmarting Mr. Fancy Feet: tell him moose cakes don't exist, or the store is out of brown frosting, (nope, those choices end in going to confession) or have the cake made at Dillons, or maybe tell dad you'll pay him a million dollars to make it. No good.

I've made army combat zones, football fields, Star Wars, farm equipment and a zillion others, but a moose??  Okay, I gave birth to this kid, isn't that enough?  Then again, 'twas I who began these dang traditions anyway.  Well, where there's a will, there's a website!  This one had just what I needed for the inspiration to make a very persistent 4 year old's moose wish come true:  http://www.coolest-birthday-cakes.com/

The red pipe-cleaner was a little weird, but I live 20 miles from Twizzlers, so any pipe cleaner fuzz stuck in the frosting must be forgiven.

Moose flambe.  I am sure the kind folks at Papa Johns were on stand by with fire extinguishers.

Then, for the real icing on the cake...

Jr. Baby's first bike.  (Calling my next to youngest "Jr. Baby" is like therapy.  It helps me feel like he's still wittle, vewy, vewy wittle.  And, that makes me feel young. Not vewy young but a wittle.)  

Yes, he's riding the thing in the house.  Mom, if you're reading this don't call me.  It was dark and raining outside and the boys insisted on giving it to him ON his birthday.  That's the story.  He only made 2 laps, 17 skid marks and knocked over one lamp.  Promise! Luv you, Mom!

Next time one of your kids has a birthday, make him or her a homemade cake.  Even if it's a moose or a Pterodactyl. You can do it! They will love it, and love you forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.  At least I hope they will!

P.S.  Thanks, Mom, for all of the amazing cakes you made for me as a child growing up.  Strawberry Shortcake was tops.  And, I love you forever.  And ever. :)