My dad is getting married next month, and the biggest decision he has to make is about the cake.
He invited me to his day of cake tasting, and when he did, I immediately started drooling, imagining all the lovely frosting-coated sugar bombs we'd get to sample throughout the afternoon. He set up appointments (or so I thought), and we were set to leave promptly at 2 pm one Sunday.
In the car, on the way to the first bakery:
"So, Dad, what bakeries are we going to today? "
"That's usually how these decisions are made."
Soon after, we pulled into the parking lot of the bakery where my own wedding cake was procured. In the door in a flash (we both walk fast when there is cake nearby), we had our tasting plates loaded up with 6 (mine) to 12 (Dad's) different flavors in a heartbeat.
We grabbed a seat in the little display room, and when the first bite of the first flavor (tiramisu) was still in his mouth, Dad said "Yep. That's it. That's the one."
"Dad, this is MY wedding cake. Exactly my cake. Don't you want to try another flavor before you declare a winner?"
"Why would I need to?"
"Look, I grabbed your fiancee's favorite flavor (white cake, strawberry filling, white chocolate frosting). Try this."
(chews) "Yeah, not as good as the first one."
"Dad, you can get different flavors for the different layers if you want. See? Here's a good one - passionfruit filling. It's good, isn't it?"
"Nah. Let's go put a hold on the wedding date."
And we did. The baker told us that she didn't need the final details until two weeks before the wedding, so we decided to leave.
"I wasn't kidding when I told you that your wedding cake was the best cake I've ever eaten."
"Dad, I don't remember you telling me that. When?"
"At your wedding."
"Eleven years ago."
"Yep. Come on, Kiddo, let's go. I've got things to do today."