Mmm, gotta love that flat, kinda a little sweet mushy cracker cake. Tastes like disappointment.
My mom made a sport of ruining my birthdays. Sometimes it was something like interrupting the party to tell me my teacher had called and I was in trouble, but usually it was my mom’s ego making her think that kids were down with whatever whole wheat bullshit she had found at the natural food store. The rye flour crust pizza she forced on me and my dwindling pool of friends who would come to my house the year after the cinnamon pie was the final nail in my birthday party coffin. Decades later I still hate my birthday.
I still have friends from childhood that ensure they remind me of all of the carob cakes they had to eat to come to my birthday parties.
My mom also found out you can replace oil or eggs or sweetener with applesauce in baked goods. Eventually my cakes were flour and applesauce.
Mmm, gotta love that flat, kinda a little sweet mushy cracker cake. Tastes like disappointment.
My mom made a sport of ruining my birthdays. Sometimes it was something like interrupting the party to tell me my teacher had called and I was in trouble, but usually it was my mom’s ego making her think that kids were down with whatever whole wheat bullshit she had found at the natural food store. The rye flour crust pizza she forced on me and my dwindling pool of friends who would come to my house the year after the cinnamon pie was the final nail in my birthday party coffin. Decades later I still hate my birthday.