My birthday was technically Monday even though I celebrated Friday night. On Saturday I heard lots of whispering and so I sat the girls down and said, "Girls, I love you so much. I know you love me. Here's how you can show me...please please please don't wake up at 5am and fix me a big breakfast!!! I just want to sleep." They giggled and said they already had it taken care of. They had 'bought' me something. That night we had Turkish breakfast for dinner. We threw in some extras and called it my birthday dinner. On my plate, you can see: helva http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helva, a boiled egg, sarma (stuffed grape leaves), fried green peppers, goat cheese, olives soaked in oil and hot red pepper, a fresh salad, bread with honey and butter, and....a cinnamon roll. I didn't make cinnamon rolls, how did that get there? More giggles. Evidently they had pooled their resources and bought me a cinnamon roll at the bake sale on Friday. Then they hid it in Annika's backpack all weekend. Mmmm. Baked fresh maybe Thursday, stored in the bottom of a backpack for 3 days, placed lovingly on my plate on Sunday night. All in a climate that turns bread crusts to croutons in a matter of hours. I tried, folks, I really tried. "Mom, have you tried it yet?" Mmm-hmmm. "But I don't see any bites out of it." Oh. Well. I guess I just licked it so far. Then, as they anxiously watched, I used a steak knife to sever it in two. Then I crunched. And smiled. And crunched. I got about 1/2 of it down, bragged on them for their generosity, then said, "Whew! I am STUFFED! Who wants to polish off this cinnamon roll?" And you know, those girls gobbled it up and licked their fingers. It's a gift I won't forget!