It's NOT a Cake

Yanno the Mother Moments I enjoy the most?

The ones where I get to recount a darling story from my children's formative years- stories that are heartwarming, proud-making, humorous or brilliant, but all of them have one common thread.

They embarrass the bejeebers out of my now-grown children.

This is one of those stories.

Sorry, Dave.

The kids (and by "kids" I here refer to my hardly-ever-mentioned-because-they're'all-grown-and-gone elder offspring)were about 4 and 9. David and Erika.

It was their dad's birthday, and in addition to the cards and gifts we had gotten him, Erika decided that they would bake him a cake.

She and Dave followed my loosely supervised instructions and a cake was indeed baked.

The kids were rightfully proud of it.

Their dad left home for work every day before 6am- well before anyone else was up and about, but he'd call home during the day and talk to me, then the kids.

Before handing him the phone, Erika coached her brother upon threat of very real and, "Seriously, David- I'll kill you if you tell him about the cake" death.

Dave, always the Cool One, gave her a reproachful and derisive 'How dumb do you think I am?' look and took the receiver.

"Hi Dad! Guess what? We made you a surprise for your birthday!"

*Daggers flew from Erika's eyes and metaphorically impaled her sibling*

"Nope. Nope. Nope. You'll never ever guess what it is!"

*Dragons exploded in fiery fury from Erika's ears and pummeled her brother about his head and shoulders*

"You can try to guess all day long and you'll never figure it out- whatever you think it might be, IT'S NOT A CAKE!"

*Dave grinned and gave his sister a triumphant Thumbs Up*

It's a curious thing, the motherly ability to simultaneously dissolve in hysterical laughter, intercept a whirling dervish of 9 year old murderous intent and comfort the uncomprehending target of sisterly wrath.

So we leave today for a few days in Houston.

Leaving the farm in the care of Joe, as always, and driving down this afternoon.

Tomorrow we'll spend at the museums and whatnot.

As long as we're there we'll run by MD Anderson and get a head/neck scan, then mosey up to visit Dr. Hanna on Tuesday before we come home.

Hmmmm?

Oh, well ya. There's this little spot that's come up under Ward's eyelid- it's really nothing and I'm certain Dr. Hanna will agree with us on that.

Just a little area of irritation from getting something in there, or maybe a teeny tiny stye.

Whatever it is- it's not cancer.