My other half and I went to a friend’s wedding last night.  It took place at a lovely venue in Franklin, where after a brief ceremony (it was a second wedding for both bride and groom), two lines quickly formed. The longer line wound around several rooms to the adult buffet; the shorter line (in amount of people and the size of those people) led to the children’s buffet.

On the way to the canapés and crudités and other beautifully assorted, well-balanced selections from the Food Pyramid, adults passed the doorway to every kid’s fried fantasy:  piles of chicken tenders, French fries, tater tots and perfectly gooey grilled cheese sandwich halves. My face broke out just from the aroma.

Just as that oily gastronomic orgy passed out of view, a piece of icing-topped heaven caught our laser sharp sugar radars.  A multi-tiered cup cake mountain glistened in all its chocolate and vanilla glory.  I swear I heard a few parents in line gasp as they caught wistful glimpses of the kids-only dessert.

Groups of adults chatted over their adult food and beverages.  Kids flitted by, juggling plates of kid fare or unabashedly biting into the fluffy soft, baseball-sized cakes, unable to wait until they returned to their seats.  After about the 12^th cupcake passed by at mouth-level, my willpower wilted.  Another mother of three, equally hypnotized and helpless by the forbidden treats, pushed her seat back and announced to our table, “I’m getting one – and I’m getting one for you, too,” she added pointing at her confused husband.

“Right behind you,” I answered, maneuvering around the grown-ups with their grown-up food.

I admit the walk of shame back through the adult section carrying not one, but two cupcakes (one chocolate and one vanilla, of course!), was slightly embarrassing.  I did my best to ignore the unreadable, yet penetrating stares of others over the age of 18.   Was it disapproval, pity or jealousy?  I couldn’t bring myself to look,  however, I got my answer about 30 seconds later.

It was a silent, sweet mutiny.  Parent after parent, grown after grown-up, gave into their childhood cravings and crossed the invisible boundary of age.  After that, I stuffed my mouth proudly. 

It wasn’t until we were leaving that we noticed servers packing up lots of leftover wedding cake deserted in the adult’s section.  Feeling slightly responsible, hubby and I decided to help out and wrapped up a couple of slices to go.