Day 5: I Never Was a Cornflake Girl

So, I've wanted to make some cornflake wreath treats forever now.  I remember attempting them once and I remember it didn't go as planned.  It was a long time ago, so the details are fuzzy, but I have been wanting to try them again.  And it's because they're adorable.  And growing up, our church had this cookie exchange and you could buy a box and fill it with all of these different cookies, and I absolutely loved the cornflake ones.  I was a kid who didn't eat a lot of sweets, so you know I only bought what was cute.  Did I eat any of it?  Of course not.  They were merely for my eyes, not my stomach.

So today, I decided to seek vengeance on this project that once went awry.  At least in my mind my one attempt at these cute little wreaths went awry.  Did it?  Did it really?

It wasn't really until I was playing in the melted marshmallow/butter/white chocolate chip/green food coloring concoction that it dawned on me.

That's about the time the gears in my head were turning and I realized it's not that the project once had actually failed.

It had nothing to do with that.  The memory I have of dumping it all in the trash had nothing to do with failure.  Oh no.  That wasn't the problem.  It was that it was sticky.  Why do I always forget this?  I have a fantastic memory. A creepy, nearly photographic memory.  And yet, when it comes to sticky sensations, I forget.  As a child, I didn't mind getting dirty, but glue stuck on my fingers? Forget about it.  I still can't stand it.  Icing on my hands.  No way.  Sticky syrup?  I'm cringing right now.  When I taught preschool, it's the one thing I could understand with autistic students.  They had issues with sensation, and I was right along with them.  I don't do hugs either.  Glue is the devil.  And don't touch my shoulder.  Ever.  Other things I can't stand?


MY FOOD STUCK TO ME.  OR STUCK ON THE SPOON.  OR JUST STUCK.



So...while working on this...I suddenly had an epiphany on why I threw that batch of cornflake mess in the trash all those years ago while belting out Tori Amos' Cornflake Girl.



  I never was a cornflake girl. Thought that was a good solution.



I've eaten them, sure.  But add in marshmallows and expect me to mold those blobs into circles?  NO!  Shoot me now.  Please.

I suffered through fifteen aching wreaths.  I hate them.  They're still sort of sticky.  And just looking at them, I don't see a cute little treat anymore.  No.  I see a painstakingly awful experience.  NEVER AGAIN.

What I will I do again?  Make my favorite version of fudge.  Because guess what?  They preferred MY favorite.  All gone.  Just like that.

These though?  I hope they like them.  But regardless, I'm never making them again.  I already told Mister Man to tell them that I apologize in advance for the stickiness that will ensue.  Hopefully I won't forget how much I hate them in the future.  Because sticky treats aren't treats at all.