My offspring had a troubling first half to his weekend. He poured his heart out to me on Sunday morning, shook it off for the time being and ran out the door to make a movie with his friends.
And there I was. Sitting alone with my mountain of Mama worries. I knew it would all be ok but it also washed over me that as these people of ours grow up, it falls to us to slowly hand their responsibilities over to their own hands.
Nonetheless, I was filled with an angst that needed to be addressed. So I went out to our ancient and prolific apple tree, gathered a big bowl full and set out to make him a pie. Which I have never done before. Because making crust scares me. And, well, I like chocolate cake better.
OH MY. You should have seen me. Utensils, flour, sugar, apple peels scattered everywhere. At one point, I just burst out laughing and decided to forge ahead. The result? The ugliest pie ever made on earth. I named him Mr. Grumpy Yum-Yum. See his little pinched face? Should have used more fruit. Burnt him around the edges.
But then when Riley got home after dark and walked into the kitchen I heard the best sound in the world..."MAMA, YOU MADE A PIE!?!?"
Yes, honey, I made him just for you.