Have you seen all those wise-ass Birthday cards that mention setting off the smoke detectors with all the smoke from the multitude of candles on the birthday cake? THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME. Sad, but true. I have become a joke in the Birthday section of the Hallmark Card Store. No, really! We were seconds away from PilotHusband putting out my cake with the fire extinguisher.
My wonderful 6 year old son was so excited about Mom's Birthday! He begged to be allowed to put the candles on my cake all by himself. Of course I said "yes". Then he asked me how old I was, so he could be certain to certain to have the right number of candles on the cake. Yeah, about that...
I am a woman of a certain age. How old I am, does not come up in polite conversation. In truth, there are CIA operatives who don't have the top secret clearance to know AngryPilotWife's age. Oh sure, some people have their theories.... but just like the existence of Extraterrestrials or the Yeti; they can't prove it. I explained to my son that since we had a very small cake, it may not have room for a lot of candles. I told him to just put enough in so that it looks pretty.
When I returned to the kitchen, my cake looked like a porcupine. There were candles all over the top and protruding (cruelly) from the sides. When it came time to light them, they combined into a large fireball. As we blew out the candles together, I realized that he had used sparkler candles as well as the kind that relight on their own. After 5 minutes, those suckers were still burning. Then it happened. The unmistakable piercing shriek of the smoke detectors. Worse yet was having to explain what happened to our Alarm Company when they called. Even worse than that was the uncontrollable laughter from PilotHusband as I explained to the Alarm Company Operator that there was no fire, rather the smoke from blowing out all the candles on my birthday cake triggered the alarm. Middle age is not for the faint of heart.
My wonderful 6 year old son was so excited about Mom's Birthday! He begged to be allowed to put the candles on my cake all by himself. Of course I said "yes". Then he asked me how old I was, so he could be certain to certain to have the right number of candles on the cake. Yeah, about that...
I am a woman of a certain age. How old I am, does not come up in polite conversation. In truth, there are CIA operatives who don't have the top secret clearance to know AngryPilotWife's age. Oh sure, some people have their theories.... but just like the existence of Extraterrestrials or the Yeti; they can't prove it. I explained to my son that since we had a very small cake, it may not have room for a lot of candles. I told him to just put enough in so that it looks pretty.
When I returned to the kitchen, my cake looked like a porcupine. There were candles all over the top and protruding (cruelly) from the sides. When it came time to light them, they combined into a large fireball. As we blew out the candles together, I realized that he had used sparkler candles as well as the kind that relight on their own. After 5 minutes, those suckers were still burning. Then it happened. The unmistakable piercing shriek of the smoke detectors. Worse yet was having to explain what happened to our Alarm Company when they called. Even worse than that was the uncontrollable laughter from PilotHusband as I explained to the Alarm Company Operator that there was no fire, rather the smoke from blowing out all the candles on my birthday cake triggered the alarm. Middle age is not for the faint of heart.
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