Death by Chocolate

One year, Bear requested a chocolate cake with chocolate icing for his birthday.  Gary made one just as he wished, a gooey, rich chocolate overload that spiked our blood sugar levels and nearly sank all of us into a sweetness coma.  Last year we managed to distract him with a different kind of cake, but this year, Bear asked for the chocolate-on-chocolate cake again.

Gary and I grimaced but nodded, and this year's confection was a sacchariferous chocolate fudge cake with thick chocolate icing.  Gary served humungous slices, presumably so we could relegate the sugary mess to the trash as soon as possible. 

Wolverine took one look at the chocolate tower, said "No," and retreated to the living room.  If we were wise, the rest of us would have done the same.

Instead, I sat down with a plate of teeth-rotting sweetness, smiled, and dug in.  And nearly spat it back out.  I, like Wolverine, am one of the rare individuals who really does not like chocolate, and there was nothing but chocolate to that cake.  I picked at some icing (the best part of any cake), then sneaked my hunk of cake into the trash while no one was looking.

Gary's soon followed, but Bear and Sunflower loved theirs.  They certainly didn't have to fight us over another slice the next day.  I think all of us had cavities before we even put our forks down.  As much as I love sweets (and I surely do), even I have my limits, and that cake was a few miles past my limit.

Today Bear is ten years old: double digits!  We celebrated his birthday while he was home with us for Thanksgiving.  Maybe today he will get another death-by-chocolate cake (and a dentist on standby).