I had a complicated relationship with cakewalks as a kid.
Meaning: I always wanted to win and yet never did.
My family had a glorious staycation in Golden, Colorado last weekend. My trip report and oodles of great giveaways are forthcoming but what cannot wait is my daughter Hurricane Hadley’s introduction to The (Cake)Walk of Doom.
Which is only moderately less death-defying than walking the plank.
I have spent a lot of time in this idyllic town that is nestled between two volcanic mesas and against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. We stayed at the Golden Hotel overlooking the main drag and gurgling Clear Creek.
On Friday night, we attended the city’s “First Friday,” a newly-minted street fair that occurs on the first Friday of each month. We dined on delicious buffalo burgers from a vendor, watched a magic show, danced in the streets to a live band, indulged in Golden Sweets Ice Cream & Chocolate, rode in a free horse-drawn carriage and topped off our evening at Windy Saddle Cafe where they held a Cupcake Walk for the children.
Twenty-six kids crammed into a circle and each child was given a number to tape to the ground. Like most cakewalks, when the music stops and your number is called out, you’re a winner. But unlike most cakewalks, they had enough cupcakes for everyone; the child just needed to be patient enough to stick around to the end.
Hurricane Hadley lacks patience.
And yes, she gets it