Yesterday Rebecca had several friends over for the day to celebrate her birthday and I bought a Carvel chocolate and vanilla ice cream cake, as instructed. She put the requisite “1” and “3” candles on the cake and we sang as she cringed. At least she’s not like my sister, who used to hide under the table when we’d sing her Happy Birthday.

Although many others have probably already done so, I need to weigh in on the whole controversial subject of ice cream cakes. I’m not for them. In fact, I’m almost ready to go out on a limb and say that I’m actively against them. They have so many negatives – it’s like trying to saw through a brick with a nail file when you cut them, they melt too fast into a mushy, unappetizing puddle of goo, the ice cream is too dense, the flavors are limited, the icing is sparse and not very tasty, and, the most egregious failing of all, THERE IS NO CAKE! I much prefer the combination of a traditional cake and a scoop (or three) of ice cream on the side. Or (confession of guilty pleasure here), just hand me a tub of Betty Crocker chocolate frosting and a spoon and I’ll be quite happy. My blood sugar will be about 900, but I’ll be smiling. With a ring of chocolate around my mouth.