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.