It's late. Tomorrow is Evil (Em's) eighth birthday.

K walks out the door for work; I dash out before he takes off to grab some stuff out of the van.
He picks up some bottled water for me from the back. (I'm freezing this so we can have cold water at our zoo picnic tomorrow.)
I pick up the grocery bag I forgot in the van earlier. There are marshmallows and extra powdered sugar in the bag.

The house is quiet. Too quiet. I hear giggles from the top of the stairs.

I think for only seconds before smiling.

"Who wants to bake a birthday cake?!?" I yell towards the stairs.

Little feet come running.

"Me! Me!" Em and A chorus.

I just shake my head. They're so predictable. It's ten-thirty at night and they're too excited about tomorrow to sleep. Well, I was too at their age.

The kids help me mix and measure, pour and stir. We get a full sheet pan filled with batter and into the oven to bake.

They keep opening the door to peek in.

I side track them by giving them eggs, cream, sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla. I promised French Toast for breakfast tomorrow. The custard tastes better the longer it sits. So, they made the French Toast custard.

They still try to peek in the oven. The cake smells great, but isn't done yet.

I hand them a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and two butter knives. I put them to work making sandwiches for the picnic.

I send them upstairs to brush their teeth again.

They troop back down stairs grinning and smelling minty fresh.

I pull the cake from the oven, top with parchment and set it to cool.

I look around and they're munching something else. Back upstairs to brush teeth.

Oh to be that young again and able to be excited about birthdays. This year will be my *shudder* 30th. It's safe to say I'm not taking aging too gracefully. Where did the time go?

I can remember being 21 and wild and free. I can remember 25, when I thought I was so wise and responsible. And now at 29, I just feel tired. Tired but very, very, very loved and full of love. I can safely say I've been there. I've done that. But I like where I am now: with two giggly kids plotting to sneak into the kitchen and eat cake before it's frosted... as soon as Mommy's asleep.