Tuesday, February 4, 2014

eating cake

"Did you send all of that chocolate cake to our house?" my grandson asks, gazing about the kitchen.
"Yes I did," I admit, "But we can make another one. I have a very quick recipe."
He doesn't look convinced but drags a chair over to the counter.
Flour, sugar, cocoa powder.
"Does it have eggs in it?" he asks hopefully.
He is a boy who loves to crack eggs.
"It doesn't," I admit, "But let's add one like a scientific experiment. We'll see if the cake tastes as good that way."
He is soon happily and zestfully stirring and cracking and stirring some more.
He is a boy who loves to stir things.
He opens the oven door and in goes the pan ever so carefully.
It looks a bit like a mud pie, all lumps and goo.
The heat of the oven does its magic though.
Up, up it rises and the air is filled with the fragrance of happiness, with the warm sweet scent of after school.
"It seems like our scientific experiment worked," he pronounces, joyously eating cake.
He is a boy who loves to eat cake too.

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