Robert was excited as he struggled into the kitchen with the bag laden with baking ingredients. He had saved up his pocket money for weeks to make the cake including that important decoration.
“Right then mischief, what we doing?” his dad asked after all the ingredients were laid out on the counter, as if ready to sacrifice to the gods of baking.
“Silly Daddy!” Robert giggled, his rocket themed baker's hat askew already, “I can’t bake if I can’t reach anything.”
His dad had barely pulled over the red toddler steps when Robert jumped up and over enthusiastically opened up the flour, sending large plumes of white dust over the kitchen.
“Don’t you need a recipe wee man?” his dad asked, looking around for the baking books.
“Don’t be silly Daddy. I can’t read but I know my numbers. Mummy showed me how.” To prove his point he dragged the large mixing bowl onto the scales and decanted the flour and sugar into it, sending more material flying across the kitchen.
If there had been carnage in the kitchen before, it reached new heights once Robert grabbed the eggs and butter but it was worth it to hear the joy in his son’s voice and his wife would, hopefully, like the gesture — if not the mess.
“Ok, Daddy, you put it in. Mummy says too hot for me.” Robert stood back as the thick concoction was loaded into the oven and clapped his hands with joy when the ding went off 25 minutes later.
The cake would never win awards but it was the first Robert had made without his mum.
There was just enough time to add the ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ candle before his mum walked in.
“Surprise!” Robert shouted with glee, the cake wobbling on the plate.
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