The Icing on Top

I know I already wrote about these cupcakes on my family's Porter Reporter blog - but here I go again.

Last night I spent some time with Evan making these Halloween eye-ball cupcakes. He sat atop his stool, pressed up against the counter, watching my every move. He counted the eggs with me and poured the ingredients by himself. He stirred and then Mommy and then Evan... and so on. He sprinkled in a bottle of sprinkles and then stirred some more. It was a team effort and he is a great team player. When all the batter found its way into a cupcake holder, we licked the spoons and wiped the mess from our faces. As the cupcakes baked and he watched them rise with the oven light on, we talked about the difference between the word "oven" and that of "Evan". (He points to himself whenever we say "oven"). When the mini-cakes came out he wanted to blow on them all because he knew they were hot.

Bedtime came before frosting. And I tried to come up with something clever with the few ingredients and utensils I had. You see, I come from a long line of cake decorators. There is almost an expectation that isn't real, but I feel it nonetheless. My mother was a decorator. Hours of labor came out of her star-shaped metal tip. Beautiful and perfect cakes. Your favorite cartoon character or sports ball or animal could be crafted by her creative fingers. I have sisters that carry on that tradition. That labor of love.

Once, my second family (Tara, Devan, and I) made a clown. We used a clown character cake tin found in the bottom drawer under the toaster. We blew the dust and weevils out and did the easy part of baking. After the cake had cooled, came the tedious work. Mom showed us how to wrap the wax paper and insert the decorator tips at the end. We colored the frostings and got to work. It was exhausting. Star by star, row by row, color by color. And then finally, Completion! It was beautiful. Who said clowns are scary? It was delightful. And what? Now we eat it!? No way! Does Picasso eat his masterpieces? Does Michaelangelo cut into his sculptures for a nibble? It's too lovely to destroy. It embodies too much work to devour.

With a pin-pricked hole in a sandwich bag I squirted the red lines of the strained eyes onto the mini cupcakes (I forgot to steal my mom's decorator tips from her house). It was fun. Not too much work, but it is certainly no clown.

The morning brought Evan's attention back to the cupcakes. "Eyes!" As his own eyes lit up. That was the icing on top. The expression of excitement and awe, that one thing could be turned into something else. After all that work, it's not the cake that is the masterpiece, but the delight in the child's face. And it is worth eating every crumb.

I'm going to make a fancy cake for Evan's 3rd birthday. This is my pledge.








A cake by Mom----by my sister----by another sister