Way back at the beginning of our public school days, My Little Man and I were inseparable. We did everything together - and we did a lot of baking. He liked to make what he called 'earthways' out of the dry ingredients in the mixing bowls. He would push them around with a spoon, stirring and mixing until it was time to add the wet.
We still bake together, but it happens less frequently now - and My Big Helper usually wants in on the action, too.
This summer has been particularly, which caught us all off guard, and while we've spent lots of quality time as a family, it's been different from our usual routine.
So I wasn't too surprised one day last week when My Little Man asked to make a cake. He was asking for dessert, I get that; but he was also asking for time just with me, time to push around the flour and sugar and do something together.
I couldn't wait.
My Little Man wanted to try a new recipe, so we pulled out a cookbook and found one that sounded good. He chose a chocolate cake recipe and wanted it in round pans, so we worked together to read and measure.
He was able to do more than ever before and was determined to run the mixer all by himself.
Hours later, after baking and cooling, we mixed up my grandmother's Peanut Butter Icing recipe and spread it on the cake. The layers didn't want to come out of the pan and crumbled just a bit, but that didn't phase My Little Man in the least. He popped a chunk in his mouth and just kept on spreading, eyes twinkling secretively. Together we ate up the crumbles and pretended that the fanciest of cakes resided on the cake plate.
That night, it did.
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