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Perfectly 10

I never pushed little candles through the crust of golden baked bread until yesterday.


It was Sam’s 10th birthday, and for his cake he didn’t want cake. He didn’t want pie. He wanted a loaf of french bread. Around here, we try to comply with even the most unusual birthday requests. French bread is easy.


The only protest regarding Sam’s celebratory treat came from Tommy, who missed frosting. My husband decided to remedy that oversight by quickly making a batch of whipped cream. It felt a little odd to dollop whipped cream on soft bread, but it was actually pretty yummy. I ate my share. We all did.

Appetites were hearty because before candle time, we had a water balloon fight at the park down the street. After the balloons were expired, the kids played tag and duck-duck-goose.




Sam is a fascinating person. He is whip-smart, sunny, funny, and very quirky. Not only did he want french bread for his birthday, he wanted his own bulbs of garlic and a wedge of aged parmesan—which he got. Of course. I can’t wait to see what he wants for his 11th birthday. I can’t wait to see what he wants for his 19th birthday, his 27th, his 58th.

But for now, he’s perfectly 10.


(birth story fans can read Sam’s here)

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