Unknown to me, last month my darling husband signed us up for a sweetheart dinner at church. It was free with one small catch. Each couple had to bring a desert. Since I do not cook or bake, that was going to be a problem until I thought of a simple solution which was to bring Hostess cupcakes. Who doesn’t like those cream-filled, chocolate goodies? I trekked off to Walmart, and purchased twenty packages, two-in-a-pack, to make a platter full of forty delicious deserts. Easy enough. All of which reminded me of the time that I had to take cupcakes to my oldest daughter’s kindergarten birthday party.
In those days, I was the only working mom among the mothers whose children were in my daughter’s class. Mothers, who spent their days playing bridge or tennis, skiing the near-by slopes, and meeting for wine and hors d’oeuvres late in the afternoons, were in my mind the elite. Unfortunately, I was not part of the group. With four small children under six years of age and teaching at the community college every evening during the week, I could not afford to play games or participate in cocktail events.
Leaving my child at kindergarten each morning, I passed through the mothers’ groups and after smiling and greeting them, I hurried home to get the younger kids in for morning naps, and then worked on correcting papers or making lesson plans. I was just too busy to fit in with moms, who had time to chat and plan easy days. Still, I loved what I was doing, so I didn’t give much time or thought to the other moms.
One of the traditions that I observed in the kindergarten was the birthday celebrations. Moms made elaborate cupcakes for their child’s birthday and provided a favor for each child in the class on that child’s special day. Knowing that I would be in line to do the same thing, soon after Christmas I purchased tiny cars and Thumbelina size dolls on sale, and put them away for my daughter’s birthday in March. But for all my planning ahead, there was a problem the evening before my child’s birthday.
Leaving my teaching job at the community college, I suddenly realized that I had not made the cupcakes for the birthday celebration the next day. I needed a box-cake mix and because it was ten o’clock, all the big grocery stores were closed. Pulling into a small convenience store at a local gas station, I asked the clerk if by any chance, she carried cake mixes. No luck, but when I explained my predicament, she said she had lots of Hostess cupcakes. Why didn’t I just use those? She further said that kids loved them, and I could buy enough to cover the class. Problem solved. I purchased enough of the two-in-a-pack to cover the seventeen students in the class and the teacher and the assistant.
At home, I found a rectangular Tupper-ware box and opening the two-packs. I placed the twenty cupcakes in the box and closed them up. Quickly wrapping the dolls and cars in tissue paper, I was ready for the next day.
In the afternoon when I picked up my little girl from kindergarten, she had high praise for her birthday party. “Mom,” she said, “Everyone loved my cupcakes. The favors were fine, but the cupcakes were the best.” Thus, I passed the mother test, and all was right with the world.
The next day one of the elite moms called me. After she raved about the birthday party that I had provided, she got down to the real reason she was calling. “My son just loved your cupcakes. He keeps asking me to make some just like them. So, I’m wondering if I could have the recipe?”
Right now, fifty-five years later, I wonder if she just wanted me to confess to providing commercial cupcakes, or if she really wanted to know how to make them. Deciding not to give in to her, I simply said, “Oh, I cannot give you the recipe. I am so sorry, but it is a secret.” And laughing, I wished her a good day and hung up.
Next week that kindergarten daughter turns sixty. When I call her with best wishes on her special day, I am going to ask her if she remembers her kindergarten birthday, and the Hostess cupcakes that were a wonderful hit with all her classmates.
