When I was a smaller version of myself – say Kitta Beta 6.4, before I was bought by Google and made users log in with their Gmail details – I would spend my days baking cookies, muffins and other yummy treats. Whenever I baked I always had a trusting friend there to help me, his name was Mr Bowl. Mr Bowl was very old, he belonged to my fathers mother and came to Australia on a ship with her. He had a chip on his side and a slight crack on his bottom, but I still loved him.
One day I was getting ready to make some cupcakes when I noticed Mr Bowl wasn’t in his normal resting place, I looked all over the kitchen for him, he was no where to be found. I asked my mother if she had seen him and that was when she told me the news.
She had killed Mr Bowl.
My own mother had killed my baking friend. Ok, so she didn’t really kill him, but she did chuck him in the bin, which I’m sure crushed his little bowl heart.
My mother then introduced me to a new family of bowls, they were plastic, came in various sizes and they had absolutely no character what so ever. I wanted nothing to do with them, I wanted Mr Bowl back. But it was too late, Mr Bowl was gone and I was left with the new emotionless plastic family. I tried to get to know them to even accept them, but the loss of Mr Bowl was too harsh. There was a hole in my heart that no other bowl could replace.
My baking has never been the same since, and I blame it all on my mother.