Cinnabon Love

Am I the only one who, growing up, used to wish her walls were made of a particular kind of food?  I am, aren't I?  Signs of a gluttony problem, you say?  Probably.  I used to wish my walls wee made of cheese, among other things.

Today, I realized I wish my walls were made out of Cinnabon cinnamon rolls.

Not just any cinnamon rolls.  None even come close to the indescribably luscious taste of a Cinnabon cinnamon roll.  Pillsbury?  Please.  Nice try, Dough Boy.

My mother-in-law got us some mini rolls from Burger King today.  The smell and taste were so familiar; they brought me back to the beginning of summer as a child, when my dad would take me to the mall for a Cinnabon.  Only I'd get a BIG one, and eat it ALL.  I remember one summer in particular when Dad wheeled me around in my wheelchair in the rain after I had broken my growth plate before the third grade.

What made my broken-ankle-summer better?  Starting it with a Cinnabon.

xoxo, A