Yesterday was Sam’s turn to bring the special treat for school. As Engelsma is quite close to the beginning of the alphabet, our last treat day was back in September, around the same time that I was flipping through magazines in the dentist’s waiting room, while he drilled and filled all our holey teeth. On one such occasion, I found these completely creative looking apple cupcakes which worked out perfectly for Sam’s September treat. Plus, Sam thought I was the best mom ever.
I wanted to impress the lad again with something spectacular. Last week, I combed through my usual websites, but nothing hit me. I was looking for something creative, original, and tasty. I finally settled for snowman cupcakes. They were cute enough; but I didn’t entirely trust the ease with which the lady in the “how-to” demo, turned out the cupcakes.
I got started baking the cupcakes, early Friday morning. Sam showed up very excited and wanting to help. “You’re making cupcakes!?” His eyes opened wide, as he climbed up on the counter. “Can I help frost them?” “Can we put sprinkles on them?” I had to level with him. “You can help frost Sam, but we’re going to make snowman cupcakes this time; okay?” He thought about this. “Why don’t we just make apple cupcakes again, those were awesome!” “They were Sam, they were, but you’ll like these too, I promise.”
I poured the batter into the papers. “I know, Mom; how about if you make these ones snowmans, and then you could make these ones here, APPLES!” The kid just didn’t trust me. I smiled and popped both tins into the oven. Sam hopped down and ran over to the oven. “I’m gonna watch these, Mom; hey, can I help you take them out of the oven?” he asked. I nodded, as he ran over to the potholder drawer and grabbed two oven mitts. He put both of them on and hunched over in front of the oven; like a little hockey goalie . “Dude, I see a bump on the one on top!” he yelled. “Sam, did you just call me, dude?” He nodded, matter-of-factly. “I think they’re ready to come out now, Mom.” We were bonding over cupcakes.
As I was popping the hot cupcakes onto the cooling rack, Sam was ripping the lid off the frosting. “We have to wait until they cool, Sam.” I pulled the fruit roll-ups out from their hiding place, along with the marshmallows and orange slices. I never, I mean never, buy fruit roll-ups. Within seconds, Naomi, Ellynne, and Kate had joined Sam at the counter. Before I knew what had happened, I two roll-ups left to make snowman scarfs.
Assembling was tricky. Soon I had frosting in my hair, black decorating gel on my sleeves, and marshmallow and fruit leather stuck to my fingers. “How many kids are in your class, Sam?” I asked. “Um; there’s Levi…, Andrew….., Eyael…., Ebenezer….., there’s me.., and Mrs. Bazen; that’s all I can remember.” “Six, Sam, you only have six people in your class, including Mrs. Bazen?” “Well, there might be more, that’s all I can think of,” he admitted. There were more; five more to be exact. Twelve snowmen later, we were golden, and Sam had forgotten all about apple cupcakes.
The final touch was a Thin Mint-Junior mint top hat. I had sent Dwight to the store for Thin Mints, he came back with miniature Peppermint Patties. I place a patty atop the first snowman and watched as the little fella did a backbend in slow motion. “Ellynne, will you get dressed and run to Meijer for Thin Mints?” I pleaded. “I think they look fine without the hats,” she replied. “Will you call Dad and ask him to make a run for me, then?” I tried. “He won’t,” she said hanging up the phone. “Okay, you feed the kids, while I shower and run myself, then,” I said running for the shower.
Halfway through my shower, I had a “light bulb.” “Ellynne!” I yelled, “We can use Oreo cookies without the creme!” It worked, the boys stood tall.
Although Sam was honored to present his cupcakes to his classmates, he was less than pleased to have his sister walking into school with him. “Ellynne, why are you getting out of the car?” he asked, suspiciously. “I’ve got to bring your cupcakes in, Sam,” she explained. His shoulders slumped as he tried to walk into school ahead of her. “He wouldn’t even say good-bye to me!” she laughed, as she told me the story. “Such a peculiar little guy,” I thought, out loud. “Takes after the Kegels,” Dwight explained.
