"Ya kna wha kine a cake i wan, mommy?" She asked. "What kind of cake would you like?" I replied. "A uncorn cake, mommy." And she did. She wanted a 'unecorn' cake with, and I quote, "gwitta". Daily for the next six months, we heard about the 'unecorn' cake. 
I planned on making the cake. Since my kids were born, my mother and or I, always made a birthday cake for the kids. Although we're great bakers and our cakes are always delicious, the decorating, I will admit... is amateur. The amateur decor had, up until this point though, never been an issue. And then it became an issue... So my husband ordered our daughter a special cake; from a bakery; and spends litterally 10x what it would have cost me to make it at home. 
And then the big day comes; the family is all here; everyone is having a great time; the food is eaten; the table is cleared; everyone is seated for dessert; the lights are dimmed; in the kitchen the cake's candles are lit; the cake which has yet to be seen by the little princess, is ceremoniously brought out to the table; and she could care less. Not only could she not give two f*cks, but she refused to touch the cake. Not a bite. She looked right through the cake. 
True story.
 
 
Kids. Ha. Ha. Ha. *rocking in corner