Cupcakes

For weeks, I’d seen the flyers for the Valentine’s Day parties my kids’ classes planned to have. I finally got around, the day before, to alerting their teachers that our contribution would be cupcakes. Amy dutifully baked them the night before, wringing her hands about them being too big (as if that was a problem). I carefully transported them – two in the basket in our stroller and one dangling in a plastic bag in my hand.

Relieved to finally release them from my possession, I delicately placed them on the ledge outside the classroom. Only to be asked, “Are they homemade,” and then find out that they couldn’t accept them, because food allergies meant that only store-bought items, whose ingredient list was a known quantity, were allowed.

I left one bag of cupcakes there, for Aaron, Jada, and their teachers to enjoy, and brought the other two bags to work, where they were happily scarfed up by me and my co-workers. So Amy’s labor wasn’t in vain. But it’s a shame that the fond memories I had of bringing baked goods from home to school – and eating other kids’ contributions – will be but stories and not shared experiences for my kids.