We literally watch him grow. This 11 year old wonder has shot past my modest 5 foot frame sometime during the winter, and continues to move toward some future unknown height. When will he stop growing? He eats at a furious pace and asks for more. His blond hair curls with reckless abandon. He avoids my hugs, so I give up on that and figure out other ways to reach him.
Early evening – a great time to put together a camouflage cake mix that’s been sitting in the cupboard, waiting for such a time as this. A teachable moment is about to occur. He’s really into this cooking thing. We preheat the oven. I show him how to grease and flour the pans. We read and discuss directions and assemble the hand held mixer. I’m talking a mile a minute, realizing how much I have learned about cooking over the years. Things start to go together. He tosses the eggshells in the sink as he cracks the eggs one by one into the mixture. The electric mixer turns the ingredients into a smooth and silky concoction. It smells yummy.
We divide the batter equally into four bowls and tint each bowl a different and disgusting camouflage color with the tiny packets of dye, which leaves a smear on our fingers, in spite of our efforts to be careful. The colors are garish but he loves them. He spoons the batter into the pans precisely, and we catch a glimpse of the finished product. He’s excited, and can’t wait to lick the bowls and beaters while the cake bakes. As we wait, we throw together a simple butter cream icing. More bowl licking. Then out comes the cake. I show him how to remove it from the pans and cool it quickly on racks in the fridge. He just can’t wait. We frost it before it is completely cool and serve ourselves generous pieces as the icing oozes down into the warm cake.
Time enough for a summer evening hike. His choice is the Audubon, so that’s where we go. He has no idea how far it is to Battery Point, but he wants to find out. He stops to explore along the way, looking for toads and snakes along the edge of the path. It’s cool and delicious in the woods. He’s intrigued by Battery Point and the beauty of the lake and wants to get into the cool water. To fill the time on the hike back, I tell him stories of family history and origins. A captive audience for me! We must make a stop at Goldenrod for his vanilla shake, his favorite. He will never be just barely eleven again.