I’m going to give Matthew credit for my breakfast choice today because as I was eating a giant slice of chocolate cake at 9:45 this morning I recalled him writing once about eating a chocolate chip muffin for breakfast, and how being a grownup was just like what he thought it would be when he was six.
I guess I needed to have the sense that I’d fulfilled a lifelong dream today.
My definition of being a grown-up was getting to eat as much of the chocolate chip cookie dough as I wanted before baking the cookies. Which is exactly what I did on Sunday when I made cookies.
Every time there’s chocolate cake in the house we have to have it for breakfast on account of Bill Cosby. “Our dad is great! He gave us chocolate cake!”
“Ice cream for dinner” was one item on my childhood list of things I thought I’d do as a grown-up, too.
The other day, I had a handful of leftover Easter malted chocolate candy-coated eggs for breakfast and congratulated myself that, whatever, at least they’re eggs.
Yup, one quarter of a cake definitely counts as a “giant slice”.
If there is ever cake in our house, i have it for every meal until it’s gone. I have no restraint where cake is concerned.
Wow, that cake looks good. I want me a piece for breakfast!
Today I discovered a giant chocolate bar (with chilis. Yum!) in the glove compartment of my car. I’d stashed it there so the kids wouldn’t eat it and promptly forgotten it.
Bonus/forbidden chocolate is the best kind.
Having a cupcake and a cappuccino for breakfast on a weekday is something I do when everything else about being a grown-up is nothing but a drag. And the fact that I can do that if I want to — because, hey, I’m a grown-up and I make my own rules! — makes me feel briefly better about the world in general.
In my case, chocolate cake does something so horrible to me. I don’t even want to talk about it.
For me, eating a piece of chocolate cake is a little bit like having a couple of martinis for breakfast with a side of percocets.
But I’ve done it, I think. It’s not pretty though.
Adulthood is when you can eat cake but your body’s all messed up and you can’t process simple carbohydrates.
WOW I LOVE THE POTBOILER BOOK on the side here! ‘Dig That Crazy Grave.’ So cool.
When I was a kid, I was only allowed to pick out my own outfit on my birthday (choosing Underroos as an outfit will warrant those kinds of restrictions). On my 29th birthday, I called my mother saying “I’m wearing WHATEVER I WANT today!” and the shock of the fact that I was, and had been, an adult who could wear, eat, watch, WHATEVER I WANTED washed over me. It was liberating.
That looks AWESOME.
Last night, my boyfriend and I made cupcakes. This is a good thing. The problem, if there is one, is that we made 24 cupcakes. For TWO of us.
Cupcakes for every meal from now on is the solution, I think.
Cake is my favorite breakfast! Leftover birthday cake especially.
Chocolate cake for breakfast is my favorite breakfast!
Pingback: Incentives • Jessica Alfieri
I wonder about my mom sometimes, like when I realize I was routinely allowed to eat cake or brownies or cupcakes for breakfast when I was a kid.
Erin, me too! ALL THE TIME, it’s no wonder I have fillings in every tooth in my head.
I feel so grown up when all the socks match after doing laundry-I know, a little on the geeky side, but, I’m jussayin’