Cakes

Cakes are pretty weird.

We sculpt eggs-flour-whatever into a symbol that bears some connection to whatever the cake is a tribute to: an eagle for The Fourth, a basketball for the birthday of the friend who’s into sports, an alter for the newlyweds. We mix sugar-food-coloring-whatever to make a sort of ink that we use to write a message on top, just so we’re all on the same page. We gather around, sometimes we light ceremonial candles and sing the ceremonial song, and everyone knows the rules about who cuts and who starts eating when.