When my son came into my bedroom at 5:45 a.m. with a hopeful look and a box of cupcake mix, I brushed him away. He went quietly and I closed my eyes... Just two more minutes…
An hour later, I awoke thinking about how nice it was that my five year old was finally independent enough to let mommy sleep in. Sensing my rousing, he popped into the room. "Mommy, I started a treat for you, come see!" Alarms, at that moment, should have gone off, but sleepy mind lingered. Slowly, I allowed the day before me to unfold. Morning routines over, I made my way into the kitchen.
"Ohhhh, Edem..." Piled high on the center island, spilling down onto the floor, the cost of my luxurious snooze lay before me. The cake-mix box suddenly appeared in my face: “Look! It says you just have to turn on the oven!"
Aghast, I took a quick inventory of the ingredients scattered around: the box of baking soda that I scoured the island to find, wide open and empty; a few remaining shreds of a precious vanilla bean; egg shells strewn in a Hanzel like trail to a now empty bottle of sparkling water. Coffee-grinds and honey left a gooey path to the brimming over cake pan on the floor. Edem stood giddy with excitement about his creation.
The empty organic coconut sugar jar pushed me over the edge. "Edem!! What have you done! Mommy just bought that sugar last night! It is REALLY EXPENSIVE!!!" The golden treat that I measure into my coffee each morning was gone. Every. Last. Grain.
"EDEM JAMES THRELFALL KWASHIE! What have I told you about cooking without me???" His wide expressive eyes betrayed the smile frozen on his lips. "But.... This time I didn't turn on the oven...”
"Go. To. Your. Room. NOW!"
He slinked, I stomped. As I wiped my way through the disaster, I realized that he managed to pull out all of the ingredients that we used in the chocolate chip brownies made a week before. Clever.
The last thing to clean out was my favorite mug. Filled with coffee grinds and water, something lingered when I attempted to pour out the contents. A pile of golden sugar was clumped at the bottom of the cup.
Edem slinked out from his room and began to silently dry every spatula and whisk. Clumsily, he helped put away the mixing bowls and baking pans. The last thing to go was my hand-woven service tray used for special events. "I don't know why you had this out," I snapped.
Later, as we drove to the store, he asked me if I would someday let him eat in bed. "Eat in bed? What gave you that idea?"
"Ibu Deborah read us a book about a Grandpa who liked breakfast in bed. She said some times you do special things like that for the people you love. To make them happy."
Suddenly, everything became clear.
I am hanging out over at Yeah Write this week. Stop by and read the work of some fabulous bloggers, and them come back on Thursday to vote for your favorites!
Erin Michelle Threlfall
Theatre Artist, Activist, and Educator, Erin is the mother of a budding genius in his 7th year of study. Erin and her little man, Edem, have a plan to investigate world theatre and influence education one continent at a time. Ghana, South Korea, Togo and Bali have been checked off the list of places to live; these days they call Brooklyn home.