“Did you brush your teeth?”
A groggy murmur response from her brother.
“Maybe you should comb your hair. It’s sticking up,” I’m listening to our two oldest in the kitchen at 7am on a Wednesday. It still looks like dawn outside, the morning just barely over dark.
I duck into the bathroom to the right before I reveal myself to them, realizing they hadn’t seen me, hoping to get just a few minutes to myself before the bustle of the day begins, before the day completely escapes me.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Eliana asks. Third comment from her, still not much from him.
I look in the hexagonal mirror, peering at the horizontal lines on my forehead. Those are new. I lift my curls from underneath both sides and scrunch. I roll my neck a bit, push back my shoulders. Think fleetingly of the heels I wouldn’t be wearing for work. A whole year in socks.
“I want cake.” His response sounds sleepy.
“Cake? I doubt Mom will bake before school. How about toast with nut butter?” she says.
Silence. I stay in the bathroom, knowing Ehsan is likely fiddling with Legos at the counter. I feel an inky pride spread across my chest. Eliana reminds me of myself at that age, the oldest of siblings, in charge.
“I want that kind of skillet cookie cake she makes,” he tells her.
“You know Mom can’t make the same thing twice,” Eliana says. “She doesn’t follow recipes.”
At that, I laugh.
I leave the bathroom and approach the kitchen with a smile, kissing Ehsan on the top of the head. Not every morning goes this way. Usually, our two youngest come down with my husband before the big(ger) kids. Jon is often already making pancakes when the rest arrive, and I don’t usually shower until after breakfast clean up and at least two cups of coffee. But what is ‘usually’ anymore?
Today could be different.
So when Ehsan asked me directly if I would make cake, my answer was definitely, yes.
Sometimes yes is a full sentence.
Slice of Life, Day 18
I was initially inspired by Heidi Swanson’s skillet cookies, but I made yesterday’s with tahini, oats and almond flour; without sugar save dark chocolate chips. Ehsan declared it “better than all of Mom’s cookie crumble cakes.” But Eliana’s right, I can’t replicate it again.
Thanks for letting me have a glimpse of your familiy’s morning routine. Your older child’s authority and care over the younger sibling. Your love shown through baking. And so glad you added a photo! It might inspired me to bake one morning! Favorite line: Sometimes yes is a full sentence.
Thank you for sharing this moment from your day. I love that you made the cake! Those are the moments your children will remember, for sure!
Thank you so much! I don’t follow the recipe (after the first time) either. I think to myself, "Oh, I can do this from memory." Right… Beautiful writing.
YES! Sometimes yes IS a full sentence. I love how you listened to them before entering, but I wanted to jump into the post and tell you that your curls are beautiful and wrinkles are okay! Look appreciatively and not critically!
Also, I don’t follow recipes either. It frustrates Julia, the scientist!
I like that "yes." as a full sentence. I also love the way you captured the dialogue of the moment. Thanks for sharing.
Those moments when we can say yes.. the joy it brings us all. Pancakes and waffles are for weekends at our house. My husband will sometimes tell me, “ you can say no to them.” But your description of saying yes is spot on. We may need to look up your inspiration.
I could so relate to being the sneaky mom, eavesdropping just out of sight if only to fill one’s heart with pride and joy. I could feel the sisterly care in Eliana’s prompts, the groggy desire for comfort food in Ehsan. I love hearing my young adult children talking and laughing in much the same way. A heartwarming Slice today, Nawal!