pop tarts seem less good than i remember. in fact, my memory of them is so spectacular that there would be no realistic way for them to actually match up.
i learned this recently when i was explaining to rhyze how incredible they were and on and on to the point that the next time we went to the grocery he and i went bombin’ through the aisle to get a box. at the next justifiable opportunity we opened one up. we explained and examined starting with why its wrapper is shiny and ending with why the icing (we got strawberry pop tarts with icing) did not go all the way to the edge.
after toasting it and splitting it in two (complete with the steam coming out just like the commercial) we each bit in and looked at each other no doubt expecting fireworks or horns of jubilee. blankness. rhyze finished chewing and said “dad, these are not very good.” i took another bite in defiance to show him how delicious they are and halfway through the chewing realized he was right. there could be a moral to the story about how expectations lead to disappointment but i was not going to give up that easily. as rhyze walked away in finite disgust, i buttered the pop tart and ate it. maybe it wasn’t about the pop tart anyway.