"Apple-pie" Mummy
A few months ago J. looked over at me at the supper table and asked very matter of fact:
“Mummy can you come and bake something at school? We have a hobby hour every Friday and sometimes Mummy’s are allowed to come and bake with us. I’ve already put your name down.”
There are plenty of things that I would like to do if I have a free Friday afternoon: go to the flower market, do some shopping for the week-end at ease, go for a coffee in a café I would never dream of setting foot in with the children, read the paper, chill out before I pick the children up at four o’clock.
In fact, I am getting into the habit of trying to finish work at mid-day on Friday so that I can indulge in all the past-times listed above. Such bliss. Such a wonderful way to begin the week-end. Baking cakes in front of 24 nine year olds is not exactly what I normally have in mind - but when you have your kid asking you so nicely how can you then say:
“No J. – I’m busy browsing around the flower market, doing some shopping for the week-end at ease, followed by a coffee in a café I would never dream of setting foot in with four children under the age of ten, reading the newspaper and chilling out before I pick you up from school at four..”
So instead I said,
“Yes of course J. what a great idea. Shall I bake scones?”
J. loves scones and so I had his blessing. In preparation for my big day back at school I did a Google search on scone recipes and had a practice run at home. Good thing I did since you have to get the liquid ratio right otherwise the dough becomes really sticky.
Last Friday, 25th May, was the anointed Friday afternoon when there was a slot free for me to come and show the children how to bake scones. So I dutifully trotted down to the school with a bag of flour, eggs, butter, milk, baking powder, sugar, a pot of strawberry jam and a tin of squirty fresh cream. J. was chuffed to see me – he even gave me a hug when he saw me standing in the corridor.
D’you know it was great fun. I was left in charge of five boys including J. and we set to work. Even I really enjoyed getting my hands dirty mixing in the butter, flour, sugar, eggs etc. I still didn’t get the liquid ration quite right though. At one point the mixture ended up resembling batter more than dough – but with the addition of more “self-raising” flour the problem was soon solved. In any case I think the boys enjoyed the gooey muck sticking to their hands and flicking flour across the class room.
At the end of the class, when asked by Juf Annemie to assess their baking experience the boys all said “I really enjoyed it”.
It was great being able to relate to J. in such a way. I fear poor J. is often frustrated that I do not get more enthused about Star Wars; that I have no interest in gaining the Pokemon knowledge; that I do not care to watch Lord of the Rings over and over again on DVD and that I can’t recount accurately corny episodes from The Simpson.
In fact I’m the kind of mother who (boringly/yawn) asks at the supper table,
“How was your day at school J.?”
“Talk to us J.”
“No, you can’t leave the table until we have all finished” and
“Put the gameboy down until later”.
Who would have thought that playing “Apple-pie” Mummy could have been so rewarding for both of us.
“Mummy can you come and bake something at school? We have a hobby hour every Friday and sometimes Mummy’s are allowed to come and bake with us. I’ve already put your name down.”
There are plenty of things that I would like to do if I have a free Friday afternoon: go to the flower market, do some shopping for the week-end at ease, go for a coffee in a café I would never dream of setting foot in with the children, read the paper, chill out before I pick the children up at four o’clock.
In fact, I am getting into the habit of trying to finish work at mid-day on Friday so that I can indulge in all the past-times listed above. Such bliss. Such a wonderful way to begin the week-end. Baking cakes in front of 24 nine year olds is not exactly what I normally have in mind - but when you have your kid asking you so nicely how can you then say:
“No J. – I’m busy browsing around the flower market, doing some shopping for the week-end at ease, followed by a coffee in a café I would never dream of setting foot in with four children under the age of ten, reading the newspaper and chilling out before I pick you up from school at four..”
So instead I said,
“Yes of course J. what a great idea. Shall I bake scones?”
J. loves scones and so I had his blessing. In preparation for my big day back at school I did a Google search on scone recipes and had a practice run at home. Good thing I did since you have to get the liquid ratio right otherwise the dough becomes really sticky.
Last Friday, 25th May, was the anointed Friday afternoon when there was a slot free for me to come and show the children how to bake scones. So I dutifully trotted down to the school with a bag of flour, eggs, butter, milk, baking powder, sugar, a pot of strawberry jam and a tin of squirty fresh cream. J. was chuffed to see me – he even gave me a hug when he saw me standing in the corridor.
D’you know it was great fun. I was left in charge of five boys including J. and we set to work. Even I really enjoyed getting my hands dirty mixing in the butter, flour, sugar, eggs etc. I still didn’t get the liquid ration quite right though. At one point the mixture ended up resembling batter more than dough – but with the addition of more “self-raising” flour the problem was soon solved. In any case I think the boys enjoyed the gooey muck sticking to their hands and flicking flour across the class room.
At the end of the class, when asked by Juf Annemie to assess their baking experience the boys all said “I really enjoyed it”.
It was great being able to relate to J. in such a way. I fear poor J. is often frustrated that I do not get more enthused about Star Wars; that I have no interest in gaining the Pokemon knowledge; that I do not care to watch Lord of the Rings over and over again on DVD and that I can’t recount accurately corny episodes from The Simpson.
In fact I’m the kind of mother who (boringly/yawn) asks at the supper table,
“How was your day at school J.?”
“Talk to us J.”
“No, you can’t leave the table until we have all finished” and
“Put the gameboy down until later”.
Who would have thought that playing “Apple-pie” Mummy could have been so rewarding for both of us.
posted by Kathleen at 7:41 AM
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