Yesterday my oldest turned 18. I’ll save my emotions about that event for another blog.
Instead, I want to mention something kind of funny, sweet, unexpected.
I went to get her cake at a local grocery store, they have a GREAT fudge torte. Mmmmmmmmm, fudge torte……….
Anyway, this young kid was behind the cake counter, complete with hair net and goofy smile. He was probably around my daughters age, and seemed so comfortable with himself. And happy, the guy seemed really, really happy. Happy to help us and happy to tell me that he was NOT a professional cake decorator, but he would give it his best shot if I wanted him to write something on it.
“Can you write Happy Birthday?”
He wants to scratch his head, I can tell… he looks at the cake, concentrating.
“Ummmmm, I can maybe write Happy B-day?” He says this like an apology, and a question.
“How about just putting her name on it, R-A-C-H-E-L.”
This seems like a good compromise.
He gets to work, and I can tell he’s new at this job…it takes him a while to get the cake out of the display, to find the boxes, and the icing.
And he takes a while. I’m waiting, vaguely wondering how long it takes to write those 6 letters, but grateful that I left the 2 year old at home. So I relax, and wait.
He comes back over, wants to make sure of the spelling. Nods emphatically, and turns his back to me, and continues his work. I notice that he needs a hair cut, because I’m a mom.
Finally, he is done.
He comes over, cake in hand-but above my line of vision. He stands and smiles at me, ready to make a speech.
“To make up for not being able to write out ‘Happy Birthday’, I did a little art work for you instead”
His voice SOUNDS like a smiley face. And with a flourish, he presents me with….. the cake.
He had doodled on our cake. And he was completely adorable, and so proud of himself. It made our fancy fudge torte into something so much more. He infused it with his sweet goofiness. I wanted to hug him, but thanked him instead.
And everyone loved it.