After all the lovely talk about the “cake” yesterday, I felt…I felt…ashamed. You see, it wasn’t really “cake,” but I didn’t want Child C to feel her birthday dessert wasn’t worthy. But…it just wasn’t cake. So I’m re-running The Rules so that next time, we can all be clear.
Those who know me well, or who know me a little, or who met me once for eleven minutes on a bus they didn’t want to be on but were forced to take because their car broke down at a really inconvenient time, know that I have rigorous standards in regards to the proper semantic use of certain names of certain confections.
These are The Rules.
Pay attention, take notes, keep your arms and legs inside the blog at all times.
There will be a test.
Rule Number One:
If it doesn’t have Chocolate, it is not Cake, it is bread.
Rule Number Two:
If it doesn’t have Chocolate, it is not A Cookie, it is a cracker.
Rule Number Three:
If it doesn’t have Chocolate, it is not Candy, it is a cough drop.
I would like you all to review those again. Commit them to memory. Write them in a prominent place. On a sticky next to your desk, perhaps, or your left arm. Maybe tape a sign to the dog.
Now, I do not deny that there are delicious breads, crackers and cough drops out there in the universe. I partake of such things not infrequently.
My objection is to the improper use of the nomenclature. It is heartbreakingly disappointing to think you are getting cake only to find out that you are getting bread. Trust me. Heartbreaking. We’re talking years of therapy here.
And imagine getting home from a raucus night of Trick-or-Treating, dumping your bag of so-called “candy” onto your bed to take stock of your haul, only to find that instead of the candy you were expecting, you’re swimming in hefty pile of cough drops. Can you even stand thinking about that poor, disappointed child? Well, I certainly couldn’t stand being that poor disappointed child, and I vow to do my best to ensure that no future 9-year-old fairy princesses will have to live through the same trauma. I still have nightmares.
So today I charge that for the sake of all those people who swallow their disappointment at the office party when they find that they’re really getting dished a slice of bread instead of cake, for all those wives who send their husbands out to satisfy a night-time craving for cookies only to be presented with crackers, and for all those little mask-wearing, pumpkin-carrying trick-or-treaters who deserve truth in Halloween advertising, that we commit to a clear, uniform vocabulary.
The populace will rejoice.
And did I mention that Himself wants carrot bread for his birthday?
All photos in this post courtesy of sxc.hu.