This guy is six.
For his birthday, K-Pants was adamant about the cake: It needed to be chocolate cake, with white and dark chocolate chips and Voodoo donuts baked in, white frosting on top, with a rainbow, and Star Wars figures.
Sure. I’m along for the ride.
So we got in line with the tourists behind the pink prison bars…
And we carefully selected the sugar bombs we needed for the cake.
And K-Pants was ready to get to work when we got home.
This guy, man.
I never would have concocted a plan like this, and that’s a huge part of his gift to us. Six years ago he unlocked the box to my writing muses; he painted our rainbow in much brighter colors; and he took our lives like taffy and stretched them out.
Happy birthday, Mr. Pants.