You push open the kitchen door slowly. It’s noisy and the adults are talking about things that you don’t understand, or things that aren’t very interesting. You hope you won’t ever be that boring. You were playing with a particularly impressive bright blue balloon, but you’re bored again now. It’s your grandmother’s birthday, and she’s surrounded by a circle of well-wishers. They are pressing neatly wrapped parcels into her hands, with ribbons of yellow and wrapping paper with flowers on.
Discarding the balloon, you stumble up the back door step and narrowly miss being knocked over by the fluffy black dog that barrels away from the closed kitchen door and out into the garden.
You reach up on tip toes and pull down the handle with a click, entering the empty kitchen and shutting the door again behind you.
Then you see it.
It is the most wonderful thing you have ever seen. On the table there lies a cake. A magnificent cake. Its chocolate icing is as smooth as a mirror, punctuated with delicately crafted flowers made of white and dark chocolate. You feel your mouth water as you step closer.
It’s huge, a huge circle of soft chocolate sponge and you can smell the aroma drifting from it, curling up your nostrils. Slowly you inch forwards until it is close enough to touch. Close enough, in fact to pluck one of the flowers from its place and shove it into your mouth.
The sweet delicious taste fills your mouth and you find yourself unable to stop yourself from curling up a small hand and plunging it into the soft surface of the cake. As you shove the fistful of sponge and icing into your mouth, you decide that this is the best thing you’ve done all day. You grab another handful with a sigh of satisfaction.
The cake is half demolished before they come and look for it, your mother gasping in horror and reaching to grab you by the scruff of the neck. You have icing caked around your face and all over your hands. As they group around the remains of the cake, lamenting and wondering what to do, you look behind you to see your grandmother.
She takes one look at the cake, and one look at you, and bursts into infectious laughter. Everyone else begins to laugh as well, and you sneakily grab another mouthful and run into the garden before anyone else could catch you.
(Source: nymaeriawrites)
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