Tuesday, August 13

That Damn Cake

Image by redvisualg via stock.xchng

When I was 4 years old, my parents and I attended my sister Michelle's Pre-K end-of-the-year ceremony. At the time, I didn't know what was going on. So instead of sitting patiently and watching my sister's class performance and the receiving of fake diplomas, I wandered around the cafeteria (the place where it's held) while clutching onto my plastic Barbie purse.

After the ceremony was over, everybody headed over to the classroom to celebrate. My parents let me follow my sister around the classroom to keep her company. Then, I saw it. Sitting in the middle of a few desks covered in tablecloths, its pastel looks beckoned me to devour it. It's cake.

Unfortunately, the slices were for Michelle's Pre-K class only. Instead of enjoying a piece of cake with the kids, I stood awkwardly near Michelle while she sat comfortably on her desk eating some of that cake.

If I was violent, I would have bopped my sister in the head with my purse and steal her cake. But since there were a lot of adults and children surrounding us, that's impossible. Plus, I would have never thought of that idea since my little eyes were fixated on Michelle's cake slice.

"Lisa! It's time go! Say goodbye to your sister!" my mother shouted, breaking my trance.

What? I have to leave without getting a piece of cake? My 4-year-old logic told me I must take some desperate measures to get what I want.

Before my parents dragged me out the classroom with them, my tiny hands grabbed the edge of the door frame and held it tightly. I was hoping that my parents would get the message that I want to stay for cake. Unfortunately, they didn't get the memo.

They attempted to pull me away from the door, but I was kicking and screaming. My mom tried multiple times to calm me down, but that didn't help the situation. So, my parents received backup. Mrs. Ortega, my sister's teacher, arrived to remove the 4-year-old ruckus from her classroom.

"Goodbye, Lisa," Mrs. Ortega said sternly.

"Goodbye, Daddy!" I cried as my parents successfully pulled me out of the classroom.

I think they felt sorry for me because they thought I wanted to stay with my older sister. In reality, I wanted to stay because of that edible block the Pre-K kids get to eat. What child would want to leave a piece of pastry perfection behind?

If I learned anything from little 4-year-old me, it's that kids would do the darndest things to get what they really want. I should have rationalized with the adults for cake in the first place. But do you think little Lisa would know about negotiation and how that would save everybody from so much trouble? Of course, not. You can't blame that little critter for craving stuff. I just want that damn cake.

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