My grandma around Christmas time would always come over with fruitcakes for our family. And I absolutely hated them. So did my brother and sister. My parents would pretend to be all thankful, but they weren't big fans either. But to be polite, they would make us all eat some when Grandma was over so as to not make her feel bad. Even though we hated it, we had to eat it to "be polite."
I always somehow managed to get mine down, either by drinking a lot of milk to try and wash it down or feeding it to our dog Spitz, who had a love for fruitcake. I don't really know why my parents didn't just tell Grandma that we didn’t like it. It would have saved almost 7 years of pain each Holiday season.
The funny thing is when she got older and had to live in a nursing home, my brother and I went to visit her one Holiday season. I don't remember exactly how but the fruitcakes were brought up, and she said to our surprise that she didn't herself even like the cakes. She always baked them just for us because she was under the impression that we enjoyed them!
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