Last year I slaved in the kitchen for hours making whoopie pies. Covered in flour and powdered sugar, I even made a late night run to the store to find a container big enough to hold 24 whoopie pies.
The year before it was cake pops with no help from one of those fancy little machines or pans they have now. I got down and dirty, crumbling the cake and mixing it with cream cheese by hand. A coat of melted chocolate and sprinkles crusted one of my counters.
I thought I was pretty super sending in homemade birthday treats when most kids bring store-bought these days. I was a stay-at-home mom, and I was earning my stripes. I imagined all the other children wishing their moms made them whoopie pies, and the teacher thinking, “Wow. She must really love her son.” I didn’t deserve Mother of the Year, but Honorable Mention? Maybe.
I was contemplating what spectacular confection to make this year — I thought about the cupcakes baked in ice cream cones — when David asked me, “Why can’t you just buy cupcakes at the store like everybody else’s mom?”
“Well, I wanted to make something special for you, and I thought it was, you know, nice to send in something homemade. Homemade with love.”
“I just want cupcakes from the store this year.”
That stabbed me in the heart a little. All that effort and he didn’t appreciate it?
It turns out my non-conformist homemade goodness is embarrassing. Already David feels pressure to blend in and go with the crowd. I was a little surprised. This is coming from a kid who keeps his head warm wearing a furry, bright red Russian hat that looks like an Angry Bird. Apparently Angry Birds are cool. Homemade baked goods, not so much.
So today my newly-turned eight-year-old took to school plastic boxes of perfectly round cupcakes topped with perfectly placed pillows of fluffy frosting from the grocery store bakery. Cheap plastic rings that looked like party hats and presents were squished into the frosting.
Just like all the other kids.
David is trying to find his place in the world, and he wants to fit comfortably into his spot between his peers.
It’s my job to help him find that balance between fitting in and staying true to the special things that make him unique. Sometimes he’ll need store-bought cupcakes, and sometimes he’ll need a crazy hat.
It’s starting.
He’s growing up.
{Sigh.}
Oh, well. I have at least 10 more years left. If he thinks whoopie pies are embarrassing, he hasn’t seen anything yet.
Found you on SITS. Been there done that. My youngest is going to be 13 next year, so it’s a whole new world – lol
btw – I meant she will be 13 next month – lol
I made those cupcakes in the cones a few times for her, and believe me you are actually lucky. They are a pain to transport to the school – lol
It is hard when they start to notice that kind of stuff, huh? Especially when you have been bending over backward to make something special. You are a good mom to recognize what he needed and go along with it! 🙂