I love my wife. She knows exactly how to make my birthday special – she cooks me all my favorite foods on this day, helps pick out a stylish birthday outfit, and buys me something kick-ass every year (a sweet pair of basketball kicks this year). And more importantly, this is the one time of the year she uses the oven to bake me a delicious chocolate cake.
I am the baker at home; I go on crazy baking marathons where, in an effort to be energy efficient, I make sure I atleast cook 4, if not more, dishes once I switch on the oven. My wife? Not so much; she is much more of a stove-top cook, and the most she comes in contact with the oven throughout the year is to help take out the pizza from the oven if my hands are tied up preparing the chicken roast that will go in next.
Yet, for the past couple of years, on the night of my birthday, she surprised me by baking me a chocolate birthday cake all by herself - now, she still uses those cake-in-a-box mixes, but they still involve measuring out proper amounts of the mix-ins, mixing up the batter (a tiring job for my delicate little Princess), and baking to exactly the right temperature to avoid a not-yet-done or burnt cake. And for all her baking fears, she gets it right every year – and always makes me appreciate the simple things in life that we really need to have a wonderful life.




