Cakes

I was born impatient and talkative. My parents always tell me that I began talking when I was ten months old. They think that demonstrates the potential intelligence that lies in me. That has flourished a couple times in my life, but I still see that as my immense tendency to talk. One day I was so out of topic, I started asking the meaning of sentences and phrases I used daily since an infant cannot extract the words unless they know how to read and write. I was always proactive and unruly.

On the day of my fourth birthday, I guess, my dad bought two cakes. I wanted one of those cakes that were two on each other; however, logically, if we had bought that, we would have had a huge traffic jam for the bathrooms. Those cakes are often big and suitable for 60 or more people.  Therefore, my father bought two different cakes and promised to put them on each other, so that it will look like one of those. My impatience could not abandon the urge to mess up, and I started eating one of the cakes with a straw. I still do not understand why with a straw. Eventually, I ruined my opportunity to have one of those cakes for my birthday. The cake looked disgusting.

The main cake was safe and out of my hands. My aunts arrived and I loved one of them so much I wanted to show her my cake. It looked like Mickey Mouse. I picked up the cake and started running. Unfortunately, I dropped it and collapsed into it myself. My whole head was covered in cream and the icing. My dad was about to burst. I, overconfidently, without that much sorrow, just washed my face and began playing with my friends. My dad now had to go and buy another cake in the middle of birthday.

The last cake survived, but it tasted like old socks. It was one of those ready ones they kept in the fridge and it was enormously ugly. This impatience has cost me a lot since I was born, and it still follows me everywhere.