I just did the quick math and realized my wife and I have been empty nesters for almost ten years now. When our youngest headed off to college in 2017 we pivoted and embraced the milestone of less clutter and chaos. But just as suddenly we have grandchildren now, and with them comes the reminders of those formerly frenetic chapters of our lives.
The moment that inspired this post was the one I never saw coming. We hosted our granddaughters earlier this week, in the first of what we hope will be countless “sleepovers”. At ages 3 and “almost 2” they’re a sight for sore eyes (and also a sight you should never take your eyes off of). My wife and I were in the kitchen doing a something-or-other task when suddenly the three-year old beckoned to me from the nearby screened-in porch. It’s pretty adorable when a little one uses “come here” gestures to get your attention because she still doesn’t quite have the words.
Now let me admit to a little annoyance. After all, I was in the middle of something and I was being interrupted by my granddaughter. In typical adult fashion I said, “Hang on honey, let me finish what I’m doing”, but she persisted. Apparently what needed to be seen couldn’t wait one more minute. So I let out a sigh, put down what I was doing, and wandered over to the porch.
Here was my granddaughter, holding her hands out wide to proudly display what was sitting on the table…. an empty wooden bowl. I looked at the bowl and then I looked at her, then back to the bowl, then back to her with obvious question marks in my eyes. And all she said to me was, “cake!”. Cake? What was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to pronounce some other word but somehow it came out “cake”?
It was then she gave me a glimpse into her wonderfully imaginative little world. I had no idea our screened-in porch was actually a world-class chef’s kitchen. There was some serious baking going on in there! And the cake’s ingredients – of which there were many – came from the most unexpected places.
To begin with my granddaughter produced a small rock (not sure where that came from), which served as the cake “starter”. Then she picked up the largest throw pillow from the couch and shook it vigorously into the bowl. Who knew we had a “bag of flour” right there on the porch? Immediately adjacent to the flour, a smaller throw pillow became a “bag of sugar”. More vigorous shaking. Finally she seized the third throw pillow, which she didn’t have an answer for (so we told her it was baking powder).
Other ingredients followed. When she asked for butter we emptied the box of butter sticks from our refrigerator so she could help herself to “the rest of them”. When she needed a little water she sprinkled some (literally) from the nearby wall fountain. An empty watering can was suddenly “full of milk”. And in a creative spin I could never come up with myself, she decided the four ornate corners of our patio table were dispensers for cake toppings like whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and rainbow sprinkles. She’d press press her hand down on them and make a “sh-sh-sh” dispensing sound that sounded just like the real deal.
At this point I’d completely forgotten whatever mundane task I’d been doing in the real kitchen because I was focused on the make-believe one instead. I contributed several (real) implements so the cake could be thoroughly prepared. Wooden spoons for stirring. Spatulas for turning. Tongs to pick up and put down the mysterious rock (a repetitive step in the recipe she clearly understood but I did not). An (empty) shaker of cinnamon. Impatiently I asked her if the cake was done but she just shook her head side-to-side and said, “No (Gran) Da, this cake will take hours”. And that was perfectly fine with me.
By the time our granddaughters were strapped into their car seats and on their way home I think we’d baked another four cakes on the porch kitchen. Little Miss Almost-2 occasionally pitched in as sous chef, although her older sister was only too happy to point out who was in charge. Today as I sit at my laptop I’m looking at a clean and organized screened-in porch. It suddenly seems a little boring.
As for the inside of the house, the dishes are washed, the toys are back in the cabinets, and everything’s pleasantly back in order. It’s an empty nest around here again. Except for some little handprints that need to be scrubbed from the living room windows. On second thought maybe I’ll leave those where they are, if only to remind me – whenever she asks – to drop everything I’m doing and go bake the cake.
Life In A Word 
fantastic Dave! You captured the moment so well. Ric
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Thanks Ric. It’s the unexpected moments that make for the best blog posts.
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YES! I love this!!! So very sweet. I 100% relate to leaving the hand prints on the glass. We have hand prints all over our closet door mirror, and I want to leave them there forever. Way to go, Gran! 😉
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Also, I very much want a beautiful screened-in porch. That sounds and looks (from what I could see in the pics) idyllic.
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The screened-in porch really is wonderful – and it seems most houses down here in the South have them. It’ll get steamy in there in the next few months, but at least you’re out of the direct sun and can temper things a bit with the ceiling fan.
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Oooh ceiling fan, nice. And you’re able to keep the bugs out! Well, I imagine, mostly. It seems they can still find a way into a lot of places.
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Two obvious benefits to living in Colorado (and at altitude): lack of humidity and lack of bugs. Down here you get liberal amounts of both. Our screened-in porch keeps out the bugs (tight screens) but this time of year bug spray is almost a prerequisite when you head outdoors. The gnats/midges/no-see-ums (your choice of label) are the little whiners that fly around (and eventually land on) your head/ears/face. I’ll be getting my “swat” on for the next few months.
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Ew. Forget the porch, Dave! Move back to CO! 😛
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That’s quite an imagination and you were there to witness it all Dave! How boring we adults are sometimes. I have never been exposed to children to be honest … I’ve never had children, nor do I have siblings and I have never even babysat. At the grocery store, I do coo at babies and wave hi to children when they try to start a conversation. I don’t want anyone to think I can only communicate with my furry friends with long swishing tails. 🙂
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I wonder if my own imagination was as adventurous as my granddaughter’s when I was her age. Just think of the blog posts we’d come up with! 🙂
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Yes, it’s hard to think back that long isn’t it? You and your brothers might have competed with one another for originality!
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A wonderful story. You are creating some deep bonds and defining moments. When my youngest grandchild was two, I became her babysitter because the other adults in the household (her parents and my wife) were all employed. I was on my back trying to garden on the steep slope while she was running around the small flat yard and she tried to come into the dirt and brambles with me. I did my best to discourage her and finally asked why she wanted to get filthy and all scratched up. She replied, “Because I love you.” First I let her sit in the dirt with me for a few minutes but that was the moment I stopped multi-tasking when she was around. And she is still manipulating me at the age of 14.
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Yes, just like your grandchild mine unknowingly gifted me a life lesson. Little ones can bring out the child in us, while resetting our priorities to how they should be. Who would argue with that?
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This is a very sweet story – pun intended:) It’s cute to see kids imaginations and creativity. Violet knows the word “mess” now and I think to myself one day I will miss all the mess she’s made ha. She turned 18 months yesterday, it’s going by way too fast!
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I’m glad you’re already acknowledging “way too fast” Lyssy. Before you know it you’ll be in the “golden years” (in our case, about ages 4 thru 9 when it seemed they could do no wrong). Then suddenly they’re married and having kids of their own. It’s all a blissful blur. We’d do those early years over again in a heartbeat (though maybe not the teen years 😉 ).
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What a lovely story!
One of my little grandsons would follow me around the yard as I weeded. He was always saying ‘OOK Gamma’, then pointing something out. He carried around a small spray bottle full of water. He sprayed everything he saw, including me sometimes. Good memories!
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You remind me of a long-ago time my uncle asked my nephew and I to weed his garden. We turned it into a battlefield, with the weeds as fronts of soldiers approaching from all directions. Pretty sure it made the task at hand at lot more fun than a mere chore.
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That sounds like one of the best cakes ever! My Mrs and I are patiently awaiting the start of our grandparent phase. The 5 grandcats aren’t cutting it for us.
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That was lovely Dave, and a testament to the power of a kid’s imagination. Who needs an Easy-Bake oven?
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It makes me wonder what she could do with a big pile of LEGOs. I feel so unimaginative settling for the models 🙂
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Wow, now that’s creative!! I hope you packaged the “cake” up and sent it home with her parents! LOL
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This brought back so many memories of going over to my grandparents’ house when I was little and spending the night with them. They were always so quick to indulge in my little fantasy world and made so many special memories that I cherish to this day. Thanks so much for sharing!
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This little story practically wrote itself. The imagination of a child is a wonder.
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