All our boys loved the Spot books when they were tiny. And with our history of all-out birthday cakes it was inevitable that one of them — in this case The Maker — should request a “Spot Cake.”
Technically, it’s the cake Spot baked for his father, but that point was lost on the Maker, who was most keenly interested in the great shining swaths of chocolate frosting capped with green, and the dizzying loops of pink on top. The M&M’s were the best part because he could poke those on — or alternatively, eat them — himself.
That photo at the top on the far right cracks me up; it’s like he’s saying, “Careful with that thing, Dad, you don’t wanna get it on you.” This after we had to do a full hose-down of both him and the kitchen after the “making of” and before the party.
It was a smashing success in every respect, and one of the few birthday cakes I can lay claim to having orchestrated myself, and I didn’t even use a mix. Those were the days.
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