Thursday, November 29, 2012

Preschool: the flavor

L's class is learning about the work of chefs this week. I dropped her off as her teacher brought a large bowl of ingredients to the center table. I saw graham crackers and confectioner's sugar. "Ooh," I said to L, "make me something delicious!" I kissed her on the top of her head and forgot about the moment entirely.

Many hours later, her sister was in the bath and I was upstairs with her when L came home with her father and brother. Mama! Come down! I have something for you! She thrust a squishy, sticky lump in my hand, warm from hers. I made you a cherry one!

A "what" wasn't immediately evident. It was a muffin-sized cheesecake. She'd really saved it for me. What a sweet daughter, right?

So here's a question for you: do you want to eat anything that was made with love by a dozen four-year-olds? They're clean, right?

I asked her to put it in the fridge for me. I thanked her, but in retrospect, not enough. It was the throes of our interior rush hour: baths, dinner, homework, crazies. I meant to come back to it but it wasn't that kind of evening. I forgot.

Long after she was asleep I rediscovered my bejeweled treasure. White and fluffy with a canned-pie-filling cherry on top. With the fingerprints of a roomful of cold-and-flu-season-preschoolers inside. With my sweet girl's love and generosity.

Of course, I ate it.


And when I wake her up in the morning, I will scoop up in my arms and tell her effusively how wonderful it was. Sometimes it's about more then just the flavor.

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