Consider Yourself Warned - P - Promises

We're celebrating a birthday here. This year I'm really trying to do the Good Mommy thing, party for several shrieking small people included.

Child wanted a cake shaped like a castle, just like the picture in the cookbook. I broke the news to her right off the bat that no cake I make is going to look like the one in the cookbook, but I did try. I made a round cake and several cupcakes, then put the cupcakes upside-down on the big round one (they were the turrets), frosted the whole thing (frosting is actually pretty gross when you see how it's made. I mean, I didn't expect it to be healthy, but still... ech), ripped up pink marshmallows and put them around the turrets (not sure what part of the castle that was supposed to be - gargoyles, maybe?), and then sat back and said "well, that's about as good as it's going to get."

And all the work paid off. Everyone agreed that the cake was very clearly meant to be a cake. The castle part I had to explain, but still. It was progress, compared to certain past birthday-cake experiences.

What does that have to do with promises? Nothing.

Here's what does have to do with promises: soon, I'm going to be taking Birthday Child to get her ears pierced. Because years ago, when she was a much smaller and somewhat milder version of her current self and first grade looked much further away, I made a promise.

Parents, and parents-to-be: Never promise anything to a child. I don't care how young they are. I don't care how forgetful they are. Kids remember promises. ALWAYS.

The same child who can wander in and out of their room five times without successfully getting a pair of shoes (including at least one trip where they bring back just one shoe - did they forget they have a second foot??), who won't remember that they were supposed to bring carrots to school today until their bus has arrived at the stop, who will ask "how many days until my birthday" multiple times in one day - that same child WILL remember that once, when they were two years old, you told them that when they get to third grade they can have their own bike.

And now I have to get to bed, because I promised someone a birthday party tomorrow, with a cake, which is going to mean a pre-work trip to the grocery store for more margarine and confectioners sugar than I want to imagine being consumed by anyone, let alone small children who will be running amok in my house.