Gee, I wish I was able to see my nephew

If our Christmas brunch were White Christmas, I’d be Major General Thomas F. Waverly, our centerpiece would be a totally-real-looking, four-foot-tall, completely-stage-blocking tiered cake decorated with 12" tapered candles, and my nephew would be a stupid and instantly forgettable musical about the military featuring hundreds of soldiers who secretly came to my failing hotel in the dead of night SPECIFICALLY FOR ME TO SEE.