Now I'm not saying a boy can't enjoy a pink cake covered with donuts and sprinkles, but if we're gonna follow hetero-normative social gender constructs, it's pretty clear who this cake is for.
Someday I want to coat my whole arm in icing and dip it in a vat of sprinkles. I wouldn't know what to do next, sadly, once I'm thoroughly spackled with hardening icing and sugary bits. I wouldn't want to eat it, I just want to take pictures of it maybe and call myself "Ol' Donut Arm". I guess just a donut will do.
Now that I'm getting older and slowing down a little (LIES!) and not raging six nights a week like I once did, I can imagine eating bright green donuts shaped like sweet little bears without feeling queasy in the least. There was a time when even the hint of breakfast would send me wretching. I'm happy to be able to appreciate the cuteness and whimsy of green icing.