“Where’s Mom?” asked Weston. Baking supplies were lined up on the kitchen counter. “I thought she’d be in here baking.”
Mama looked up from her computer in the office corner of the kitchen. “You know, she planned to make six dozen cupcakes for tonight’s fundraiser for Claire’s preschool playground,” she said. “But she’s not feeling well at all. She’s upstairs in bed with a fever and chills. I wish I could do the baking for her, but I have to get this report done for work tomorrow.”
“And now we won’t be able to buy new toys for the playground.” Claire hugged her stuffed whale. She looked almost ready to cry.
“I’m sure they’ll still make enough money,” Weston said. But not as much, he thought. I know Mom really wanted to donate the cupcakes to the bake sale. Look how much it matters to Claire, too.
“Maybe I could bake them,” Weston said out loud.
“You know how to cook?” Claire asked, staring up at him.
“Well, no,” Weston admitted. “But I could just follow the recipe and learn, I guess. Mom has all the stuff out already.”
“Weston, that’s a great idea,” Mama said. “I’ll help you with the oven, and I can run the cupcakes to the preschool later.”
“And you can help me make them, Claire,” Weston said.
“Really?” Claire smiled at Weston and hugged her whale tighter.
“Sure.” Weston pulled a stool up to the counter for his sister to climb onto. “Let’s get to work.”
Weston read through the recipe. Then he started measuring ingredients and dumping them into a bowl. He handed Claire a wooden spoon. “Here, you stir,” he said.
Letting a four-year-old stir meant that Weston soon had a big mess. But he had to laugh as a cloud of flour spritzed Claire’s cheeks.
Breaking eggs turned out to be harder than it looked, too. This time Claire laughed as Weston tried to wipe the yellow glop from his hands. Pretty soon flour coated the counter, and the eggshells crunched underfoot.
Even with Claire’s “help” making all of it a bit harder, Weston enjoyed preparing the batter and pouring it into the cupcake pans. After Mama helped Weston put the pans in the oven, the tempting aroma of chocolate filled the kitchen. Weston mixed the frosting ingredients together. As he helped Claire stir them, Mom stumbled down the stairs, wrapped in her robe.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“Weston and I baked the cupcakes!” Claire announced.
“You did all that work for me?” Mom asked him.
“Sure,” Weston replied. “I did it for Claire, too.”
Weston laughed as Claire stuck a glob of frosting onto his nose. This cooking thing had actually turned out to be fun. I wonder what I should make next?
