The maid quickly redirected the festivities, but the idea percolated in my mother's mind the rest of the afternoon. I think, when she said it, she meant it the way parents do when their child behaves appallingly. But the more she thought, the more it made sense to her.
After an afternoon of similar tantrums on my part someone decided it was time to have cake. My mother seemed to be takeing forever in the kitchen, and I went to check on her. I don't even know why she was the one getting the cake instead of the maid, who was far more maternal.
On the island in the kitchen, a massive chocolate cake covered in pink flowers sat in the middle. My mother stood on the other side, holding a gigantic knife she was useing to cut the cake to serve on tiny saucers. Her hair was comeing loose from her bobby pins. ''Chocolate'' I wrinkled my nose as she tried to set perfect pieces onto the saucer.
''yes, wendy, you like chocolate,'' my mother informed me.
'' No, I don't'' I said crossing my arms. '' I hate chocolate! Im not going to eat it, you can't make me.
'' wendy!' '
The knife happend to point in my direction, some frosting stuck to the tip, but I wasen't afraid. If I had been, everything might have turned out different. Instead, I wanted to have another one of my tantrums.
''No, no, no! It's my birthday, and I dont want chocolate!'' I shouted. I stamped my foot on the floor as hard as I could.
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