My Juliana is celebrating her 16th birthday, and she has definite ideas about what she wants when her friends gather over the weekend to celebrate it. By the time this story sees print the party will have happened already. I remember my own 16th birthday. My mother, she who would buy a rock (and by “rock” I mean the kind you find randomly in any garden, no figure of speech, lest you think I may be remotely referring to anything precious and sparkly like a diamond), and especially when it is accompanied with a (sob) story, asked someone she knew who was just starting up a baking business and needed very much for that order to go through to create my birthday cake. I lived in a very small city, yes, but 16 was still considered a special number by any measure and so I made an effort to specify how I wanted my cake to be. I drew it, and wrote notes and instructions specifying this and that and went along my happy way, going to school and church, but counting the days till my birthday. I was excited about the idea of turning 16!