Little Man turned 2 this weekend! I cannot believe that my baby is growing up so fast. I’m still going strong with the nursing game, naptime and bedtime. It always amazes me at how many people are disgusted and weirded out that I’m still nursing. I’m not just going to completely make him stop, cold turkey; that’s cruel and unusual punishment. The worldwide average for nursing is 3.5 years; I don’t know if we will go that long, I’m definitely touched out. But I do see signs that he is slowly starting to wean himself. Plus, I enjoy the cuddles.

Little Man has had a fascination for trucks and tractors, so I decided to do a truck-themed cake for him. Squatch and I were at WalMart a few weeks ago, and we were looking for smaller construction trucks we could use to decorate his cake. There were NONE! We were annoyed, but found two lifted pickup trucks, so those became his cake decorations.

I made the cake (1 round pan and 1 square pan), and cut it into a number 2. I had picked up a can of green Wilton’s frosting last weekend, and figured I would try it out on the sides of the cake; since I had planned on doing a dirt top of the cake for the trucks to sit on. Well, I pull the lid off the can, and see that the foil has been peeled back. When I look into the can, there is a big fingerprint dug down into the frosting, and it looks all dried, cracked and gross. I thought someone in the house had messed with me, but they all actively denied doing anything to the frosting. It was time for Plan B. I pulled out 2 sticks of butter and threw them in the microwave to soften while I grabbed cream, vanilla, powdered sugar, and food colouring. I get my homemade buttercream going, and run out of sugar. I look through the baking cabinet and pantry…no sugar. I ask MIL if there is any sugar I’m missing, and she looks…no sugar.

Now, at this point, I was starting to panic. What was I going to do? My green frosting was a hot mess and my homemade stuff just wasn’t going to work without sugar. I grabbed the nasty can, my wallet, and Squatch’s keys, and I went to WalMart. First stop: Service Desk. The lady there agreed with me that what some asshat had done was just disgusting, and she told me to go grab another can and bring it to her, in exchange for the one I had brought in (I checked the thing twice, and had the service desk lady do an additional check). I also went and picked up two bags of powdered sugar. When I got back home, I finished whipped the frosting together, using both green AND blue colouring to make it (the green on its own was just too olive-y looking for me). Then I loaded the top of the cake with some fudgy frosting, did the sides with the green, and sprinkled crushed up oreos on top.

We got Little Man two big trucks for his gift: a dump truck and a cement mixer. He is completely enamoured by them. He has brought them into bed with him for his naps (they are currently covered by the sheet right next to him as he dozes). When I put the cake on the table last night, I put the two little trucks on top. He immediately saw them and tried to reach and grab them. Forget cake; he wanted those trucks! It was just the cutest thing.

Squatch and I even took him out for a bit on his birthday. We ordered pizza from a local restaurant that makes a really good New York style. It was cool and rainy, and Little Man was antsy and restless being cooped up all day. So, after we placed the order, I told Squatch we were going to join him on the drive into town for the pizza. Little Man was so excited to get out of the house and go somewhere. It was his first car ride in 3 weeks; since we drove back home.

Getting out and about definitely worked wonders for Little Man. He had been an absolute bear all day. When we came upstairs in the morning, Granma started clapping and singing Happy Birthday; Little Man was having none of it. I don’t blame him. I’m not a fan of the phone calls, singing, being the center of attention. I just prefer to get a card, have a nice meal, and slice into cake for dessert; no fuss, no muss. It appears Little Man is the same way. Come to think of it, last year we sang to him on his actual birthday, when we had the cake I made with all of his grandparents and his uncles. At his birthday party, I just sliced the cake and let everyone get their own; no singing. He did better with his cake though; he sat in his chair, staring at the candle once it was lit, giving a small smile as we quickly sang the song to him. Once it was all done and I blew out the candle (we’re still working on that with him!), his eyes (and hands) were all on the trucks. So, trucks it was. He got a little slice of cake, which he slowly nibbled on while driving his 2 new trucks around his small corner of the table.

All in all, it was not a bad way to celebrate a birthday. Squatch and I had decided when I was pregnant that we would just do a big 1st birthday party for our kids, and after that we would do dinner and cake with grandparents (and uncles, if we were in the neighbourhood). We will celebrate his birthday with my parents and brothers later this summer when we go back down south for a few weeks to visit.