The Birthday Cake

What Cake?

Dad had a lot of skills, but baking wasn’t one of them. He could cook, and had prepared supper for us kids twice when Mom was in the hospital for a few days giving birth to my younger sisters. (No drive-by deliveries back then!) He wasn’t however, willing to risk baking a birthday cake.

So, on Mom’s Birthday he stopped at an inner-city bakery on his way home for a cake. He saw a nice-looking cake and asked the clerk about it.

Dad: “What kind of cake is this?”

Clerk: “What.”

Dad: “What kind of cake is this?”

Clerk: “What!”

Dad: “I said, ‘What kind of cake is this?’”

Clerk: “What cake!”

Dad: “That cake!”

Clerk: “That’s a what cake! What’s the matter with you, man?”

Horrified, Dad realized that due to her inner-city accent, he didn’t know she’d been telling him that it was a white cake!

Dad: “oh…”

Clerk: “You want it?”

Dad: “Uh, I guess…”

He had intended to get Mom a chocolate cake, but by now he was so embarrassed that he just wanted to escape. So Dad bought the white cake, and Mom was pleased.

On Mom’s next Birthday, Dad risked baking her a chocolate cake. It was delicious.