Fact: When I was a kid, my mom took my sister and I to school every morning and picked us up every afternoon.
Fact: Every year in the fall (no foreshadowing pun intended), our elementary school would hold a Family Fun Night. And that Family Fun Night included a cake walk.
Fact: My mom used to be quite a cake maker. She has been known to create wedding cakes. No joke.
One afternoon when I was nine and in the fourth grade, I ran down the hill from the elementary school to my mom’s car and found that the front seat on the passenger side was covered with towels surrounding and protecting a lovely white-iced three-layer cake. My mom told me that the cake was for Family Fun Night, and she had been waiting for me to get down to the car so we could carry it up the hill to the gymnasium.
Because nine year old kids tend to be a bit over-confident, I begged my mom to let me carry the cake up to the gym by myself.
My mom then made the worst decision of her life, which is a huge deal when you consider the fact that she once purchased and wore a blue polyester jumpsuit with red and yellow stalks of wheat painted at hip level.
“Well, okay. But be careful.”
I got out of the car and Mom reluctantly handed me the aluminum foil wrapped piece of cardboard with the three layer cake balanced on top.
I slowly took off toward the gym, concentrating on the cake with every step I took.
Right foot.
Left foot.
Right foot.
You get the idea.
So, then this happened: The barometric pressure suddenly changed and I fell down. And when I fell down, I dropped the cake. And it stayed on the cardboard platter thing, but the top two layers shifted quite a bit. I quickly looked down to my mom’s car and noticed that she was talking to another mom and hadn’t seen my fall. SO, with tiny rocks embedded in my hands, I pushed those cake layers back so they were lined up, wiped the icing from my hands onto my pants, and delivered the cake to the gym.
The mother’s club volunteer took one look at the cake, looked down at my hands and pants, and asked what happened.
Get this. I told her that my mom isn’t a very safe driver, and that the cake fell off of the seat onto the floor of the car.
“Mom says it’s fine for the cake walk.”
I then turned around and headed straight to the bathroom to clean myself up before returning to the car.
Thirty years later, payback arrived when I hurled last week’s brownies across the school parking lot and had no one to blame for my gracelessness. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Best story ever! :)
I am seriously LOLing at this one.
Absolutely the BEST!
Oh oh oh! Creative survival skills, even as a young pudding. Love this story!
Hahahaha that’s awesome! Did she ever find out?
Karen–She did. The Mother’s Club volunteer called Mom to tell her that the cake wouldn’t be used in the cake walk because of the rocks pressed into the side of the cake, and between the two of them, they figured out that I had dropped the cake. My mom then sat back and waited for my confession, which came a few weeks later.
Oh, how I suffered reading this. Then I totally laughed!
I giggle every time I think of you telling the lady that your mother isn’t a very safe driver.
*snort*!!!!
Karma.
And now that we know about your mother’s dimples, I can totally visualize her sitting back and waiting for your confession.
:-)
Great story, FP!
I may be in a maudlin mood, but I think that is the saddest damn story in the world.
Of course, it doesn’t *sound* like you were terribly concerned with it all – so I’m not sure why I am so moved, BUT I AM.
Poor you!
Poor Mom!
I just want to send you BOTH a dreamy white iced three layer cake.
First, I LOVED the cake walk. Loved, yet never WON. My mom was a horrible baker and always delivered store-bought cakes. Humiliating.
Second, I wonder if anyone broke a tooth on the rocks you embedded into that cake. And they read this blog, and have a eureka moment.
You know it was a good family fun night if you came home with a cake and/or a goldfish!
I don’t know what a cake walk is (a walk? with cakes?) but I do like the idea of pressing rocks into icing.
We always press in Dolly Mixtures, but I’m sure that rocks must be healthier, because they are Natural.
This is too funny! Totally something I would have done as a kid.
For some reason, I find myself most worried about the gravel embedded in your hands. Did it get into the cake? Were there many Cake Walk-induced sprints to the nearest oral surgeon? These are questions that should be answered. You know, some day.