Sugar-Frosted Flakes

Everybody's talking about self-esteem these days. How can we criticize our children without destroying their initiative? If we give someone an F, are we saying they're dumb? And how can you get a child to keep trying when you say he's doing a lousy job?

It's not schools that destroyed my initiative. I was a happy, hopeful kid who thought he could do anything. Until I got an Easy Bake Oven, and my whole life went straight to hell.

An Easy Bake Oven seemed like the perfect gift, since cake was the perfect food. You wouldn't have to depend on your parents at mealtime, you could pass the little cakes around to make friends. In reality, though, they were the very definition of false advertising, designed to destroy the hopes of eight-year-olds. The box is festooned with photos of these gorgeous, multi-level constructions put together by professional food stylists. They're light and fluffy, beautifully colored, little miniature marvels that professional bakers couldn't duplicate these with Wiele ovens and full-time assistants.

And then you open the box and there's a plastic drawer with a lightbulb inside.

The whole idea is completely impossible. It's like slapping a picture of a tiny Taj Mahal on a box, and then inside having four sheets of cardboard and a pair of plastic scissors. God knows I tried, and the more I tried the worse I felt. It's not like there are that many ways to mess up: everything's provided, from the pans to the utensils to the mixes. You mix one little envelope of powder with water for the batter, and another for the frosting. You breathlessly slide it under the preheated lightbulb, and half an hour later slide out a little brown blob that looks like something you'd find on the ground behind a goat.

It may seem inconsequential, but it leaves permanent scars. For years afterward the poor kid thinks he's not good enough, not smart enough, not capable enough. He's shy, and quiet, and lacks confidence. This is why he lies about himself online, and when people ask him for photos, he send really old ones, or even pictures of other people that he claims are himself.

It always works out okay in the end, though. When I meet them, I make sure to bring cake.