The Cake Incident

Disclaimer: I have an incredible memory. Like, really. So this is what happened and how it happened. Really.


 

While I was growing-up my family lived about 5+ hours away from my grandparents when we were younger, so visiting them was a  treat. A cause for extreme excitement.

One particular birthday, I do believe it was my 5th, I got the amazing gift of riding in the car with my mom and siblings, over the river and through the woods, to my grandparent’s house.

Guys, it was the best house. Complete with:a giant backyard and a place to make s’mores with my grandad and a creek and a room where we played office and a basement with a piano. And sometimes my cousins were there. And my aunts were there.

I was so excited and I couldn’t wait to get there and have my birthday party and get lots of presents and eat cake and run around and be spoiled. Life as a kid, am I right?

We were nearing my grandparent’s house when my mom got a phone call and stated something along the lines of, “No, I’ve got it, she doesn’t know.”

I remember asking her what she was talking about, but she hedged my question, so I imagine I went back to daydreaming about toys and cakes and ice cream. I suspected nothing.

We finally pulled into the driveway and then… I guess we unpacked the car and played while all the grown-ups talked. I’m not sure. This isn’t the good part, which is lucky, because I don’t really remember it.

Anyway, some undetermined amount of time passed. Then: PARTY TIME.

The party location was the back porch of the house, also very large, and also dangerous because if you walked on it without shoes on you would get splinters.

I stepped onto the porch to see a table with a cake on it and, guys, I sincerely love cake, because I sincerely love icing. I can eat an entire thing of icing. I guess I lack the taste buds or stomach or whatever to understand what people mean when they push a plate of something half-eaten away and groan, “I’m so full; that’s so rich”. Is rich a synonym for delicious? Because I ate the whole thing. And now I’ll finish yours.

(I don’t eat entire containers of icing — super bad for you. But I’m just saying, I can do that. Not that I have before. Except that I have before. Funfetti is the best.)

Back to the cake. The cake looked glorious, covered with white icing with those big poofs of tastiness all around the edges. Plates, napkins, forks, and a large butcher knife surrounded the cake. Perfect set-up. Best day ever. Best birthday ever.

My mom excitedly told me that since I was older, I could cut my own cake. With the giant butcher knife. (Does this seem weird? Because, at the time, it didn’t to me.) I was going to cut myself the biggest piece of cake that anyone had ever eaten and put my entire face in it.

I grabbed the knife (Did I mention it was a large butcher knife?  Because it was.) and tried to cut the cake. It wouldn’t cut. I was pressing down so hard and I couldn’t slice my cake and I wanted to eat my cake and it wasn’t working. I looked up, feeling confused.

My mom suggested that I hold the knife like a dagger. (Seem weird yet? I mean, honestly.) So I grasped the knife in my fist, gathered all my strength, and shoved it down onto the cake.

The cake exploded. It exploded everywhere, and the cake was ruined, and I ruined it by cutting it like I was stabbing something. Everyone was laughing and there was.. water? Yes, water all over my cake and I was holding a knife by my side, dripping with watery white icing, looking at the mess and wondering why.

Everyone kept laughing and looking really joyful and slapping their knees. When she caught her breath, my mom told me the awful truth: the cake was made of water balloons, covered in icing.

Water balloons. In icing.

I began crying, then, looking at the cake I would never eat. Did I feel embrassed? No. Confused? Not anymore. Sad? YES. Sad, because all I wanted was to cut into that cake with my plastic fork and shove it into my mouth as quickly as possible, and now my cake was ruined.

LUCKILY, there was  backup cake ready and waiting to be devoured. So, the day wasn’t ruined and I got to eat cake and open presents and run around and be spoiled. I’ve told this story multiple times, and my mom has since said that perhaps I was too young for the water balloon cake prank. She also assured me that I was in no danger while cutting the water balloon cake.

Perhaps I was too young, but if i know one thing, I know it for certain: I will definitely make a nice water balloon cake for my nephews. On their 10th birthday.

 

This isn’t me (actually, I have no idea who these people are, thanks for the video…) but this is a pretty accurate representation of what happened to me. Minus the crying. I definitely cried.

 

 

MKB

2 thoughts on “The Cake Incident

  1. Pingback: National Blog Posting Month Blogroll | Musings of the Average Millenial

  2. Pingback: So, You’re 28. | Musings of the Average Millennial

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