My kind-hearted child turned fourteen this week, and LO, THERE WAS A MOTHERFUCKING YULE LOG.
He had to work into the night at robotics for an upcoming competition, and we ended up eating a birthday dinner of cold hamburgers, but I managed to turn out a big hunk of chocolate wood, put a layer of bark on it with Julia Child's fudge frosting, and dusted the whole thing with a layer of cocoa powder. Just like a real branch.
Fourteen. Fourteen. I am less shocked by how old he is than by how few years we have left until he's off to college and starting his own life. Fourteen is still very young. But "four years left" is so, so short.
congratulations, here's a burning log for dessert
Happy birthday, kid. Next year: yule log with mf meringue mushrooms.
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