My aunt was laughing so hard she could barely stand. All the other kids at the party started laughing, too.

I didn’t cry or shout. I just smiled calmly, took my daughter home, and began to plan my response. They had no idea what I was about to do.

I still remember the exact shade of pink frosting on that cake. My daughter, Rosie, had picked it out herself three weeks earlier, pressing her tiny hands against the bakery window as she pointed at the design with princesses and unicorns.