When I was growing up, it was the cake we ate on birthdays. It ended up smashed into tablecloths and smeared on chubby cheeks like face paint. At regular intervals, we begged for this cake — Mrs. Johnson’s cake, our mom called it.
What a wonderful history you shared. It made me feel warm, fuzzy and so nostalgic 🥰
Really enjoyed this one !
What a wonderful history you shared. It made me feel warm, fuzzy and so nostalgic 🥰
Really enjoyed this one !