I remember going to stay at my cousin's house years and years ago, and after an evening sauna and Jacuzzi, we settled onto the bar stools for our bedtime snack. Her mom produced a package of Swiss Cake Rolls and my eyes almost bulged out of my head. Swiss Cake Rolls?! Delicious! My cousin and I each got our own package and I just couldn't believe my good fortune. My mom didn't allow such foods in our house and oh, boy, what a treat it was! All that chocolate and frosting and the slightly firmer chocolate on the outside that peels off and mmmm, I just couldn't get enough.
My sister Heather had friends over one Sunday afternoon, oh, probably back in 1997. One of her friends had bought a package of Swiss Cake Rolls at North American Foods on the way home from church. They sat on the back porch at my mom and dad's after lunch, eating their Swiss Cake Rolls, rolling around and giggling, the perfect picture of a carefree childhood. I sat inside, envious, wanting one. After watching them bite into that chocolate and lick the frosting off their fingers and lips, I worked up the courage to ask for one.
"Can I have one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"But I like them."
"Look, they have iron in them. You like to eat iron?"
If that's what iron tasted like, give me more. In the end, I didn't get one. Such mean friends Heather had.
When we got old and married, Chet and I went to the grocery store to buy our first batch of groceries as a married couple. We walked past the Little Debbie snacks and I swooped up a package of Swiss Cake Rolls, remembering how delicious they had tasted so many years ago. When we got home, I tore into them and was terribly disappointed. They were much too sweet and had too much frosting and they were too soft and just plain yuck.
Yesterday, I picked up a few groceries and had to buy snacks for Chet's lunch. I came across Swiss Cake Rolls in the snack aisle and picked up a box, knowing I wouldn't be tempted to snitch any for myself. When we got home, Avery was rummaging through the grocery bags and gasped.
"Swiss Cake Rolls? Delicious! Can I have one?"
"No, Avery, those are Dad's."
"Oh, man! Please, can I have one?"
"No, they are Dad's. Ask him when he gets home."
For whatever reason, the package sat on the counter all day, within view of the children. As I cleaned, fed the baby and sewed, I fielded questions about the status of the Swiss Cake Rolls. Had I had a working brain, I would have just put them out of sight, but I just had a baby so I didn't do that.
When Chet got home, Avery bombarded him at the door and asked him about the Swiss Cake Rolls.
"Dad! Dad! Mom bought you Swiss Cake Rolls and I like them and can I have one?"
"What? Slow down."
"Can I have a Swiss Cake Roll?"
"Are they for my lunch?"
"Yes, but I like them soooo much!"
"When I'm done with work on Friday, if there's any left, you can have one."
This morning, Avery asked what day it is. After realizing that TOMORROW she MIGHT be able to have a Swiss Cake Roll, IF there is any left, she has been jumping for joy.
I wish I could tell her they're not all that they're cracked up to be.
My sister Heather had friends over one Sunday afternoon, oh, probably back in 1997. One of her friends had bought a package of Swiss Cake Rolls at North American Foods on the way home from church. They sat on the back porch at my mom and dad's after lunch, eating their Swiss Cake Rolls, rolling around and giggling, the perfect picture of a carefree childhood. I sat inside, envious, wanting one. After watching them bite into that chocolate and lick the frosting off their fingers and lips, I worked up the courage to ask for one.
"Can I have one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"But I like them."
"Look, they have iron in them. You like to eat iron?"
If that's what iron tasted like, give me more. In the end, I didn't get one. Such mean friends Heather had.
When we got old and married, Chet and I went to the grocery store to buy our first batch of groceries as a married couple. We walked past the Little Debbie snacks and I swooped up a package of Swiss Cake Rolls, remembering how delicious they had tasted so many years ago. When we got home, I tore into them and was terribly disappointed. They were much too sweet and had too much frosting and they were too soft and just plain yuck.
Yesterday, I picked up a few groceries and had to buy snacks for Chet's lunch. I came across Swiss Cake Rolls in the snack aisle and picked up a box, knowing I wouldn't be tempted to snitch any for myself. When we got home, Avery was rummaging through the grocery bags and gasped.
"Swiss Cake Rolls? Delicious! Can I have one?"
"No, Avery, those are Dad's."
"Oh, man! Please, can I have one?"
"No, they are Dad's. Ask him when he gets home."
For whatever reason, the package sat on the counter all day, within view of the children. As I cleaned, fed the baby and sewed, I fielded questions about the status of the Swiss Cake Rolls. Had I had a working brain, I would have just put them out of sight, but I just had a baby so I didn't do that.
When Chet got home, Avery bombarded him at the door and asked him about the Swiss Cake Rolls.
"Dad! Dad! Mom bought you Swiss Cake Rolls and I like them and can I have one?"
"What? Slow down."
"Can I have a Swiss Cake Roll?"
"Are they for my lunch?"
"Yes, but I like them soooo much!"
"When I'm done with work on Friday, if there's any left, you can have one."
This morning, Avery asked what day it is. After realizing that TOMORROW she MIGHT be able to have a Swiss Cake Roll, IF there is any left, she has been jumping for joy.
I wish I could tell her they're not all that they're cracked up to be.
another story about myself that I don't remember. I'm glad you blamed the meanness on my friend and not me!!
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