You can always count on the innocent inquiry of a child to hem you up, leave you utterly dumbfounded or make you rethink your position on an otherwise trivial matter. That’s what happened to me this afternoon while The Babychild was playing Pastry Chef’s Apprentice to me in the kitchen.
With my kids officially ripping and running all over creation thanks to the annual free-for-all that is Spring Break, the rules in the Pack Household have become a little more lax (well, at least for the next five days). Once such rule that is receiving a brief moratorium is the one referring to no sweets on weekdays. Sympathizing with their sugar-deprived angst, I decided that I was going to bake them a “just because” cake today to enjoy during their vacation. And seeing me getting my bake on, The Babychild decided that he just had to be all up in the batter as my helper and unofficial taste-tester.
That was, until he realized what I was making. After adding, mixing and pouring my velvety cake ingredients into my baking pan, The Babychild eagerly awaited the spoon, bowl and mixer tong to lick. It was evident that he clearly had no problem with the taste of the rich, dark concoction, and he happily let me know it. When he asked me what kind of cake I was baking and I absently told him Devil’s Food Cake, things quickly changed.
“Mom-ma, the devil makes cakes and he is black like us!?”
Stricken…Panicked…Exasperated; adjectives that don’t even hold a candle to the look that was in that little boy’s face or the trepidation in his voice. In my mind, all I could hear were damage control sirens shrieking and my inner voice screaming “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!”
How in the world was I going to explain to my toddler that although I’d often wondered what 18th century European “genius” decided to associate “deviled” foods with “black”, and even rolled my eyes a time or two at my local grocer for aligning their Angel’s Food Cake mix on one shelf and their Devil’s Food Cake mix on a lower one, that there was no legitimate association between the naughty entity he had come to know as the devil and people of color.
Again, the expression on my child’s face let me know that he was extremely troubled by this potential discovery, so I had to forego the backstory altogether and simply explain to him that for years and years and years, that had been the name for the super chocolatey confection in our oven, and that the devil has never had anything to do with baked goods. Pondering that for a moment, The Babychild laughed and told me how silly it all was, then proceeded to lick his sticky fingers.
WHEW! Mini-Crisis averted!
Still…a smoldering side-eye at Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines and those first culinary experts who caused my kid to fret over a deviled dessert!
Tiffany's Fanny Pack 
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