So I don’t even try keeping things a secret anymore. After all, it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve ever made her a Zucchini Omelet or Crepes with Fresh Berries for breakfast. Sooner or later, she’s bound to find out. This year, we children split up responsibilities. On top of cleaning the house (which we should all be doing whether it’s Mother’s Day or not...), my younger brother Kyle was in charge of breakfast (as he naively thinks that breakfast is still a surprise); my older brother designed the card; my cousin Alex took care of weeding the dandelions in the yard; and I ordered and picked up a cake from our favourite bakery.
The cake was going to be a secret, a delicious secret, until Mom and Dad announced that we would be having a family gathering with twenty other people at our house that Sunday night. I imagined the eight-serving cake being divided into twenty messy portions and decided to fess up about the cake and request that we eat it earlier. Like I said, we can`t keep things from our parents.
On Sunday morning, my friend Shannon and I made our way to the bakery to pick up the cakes. (I had convinced Shannon to get a cake for her mother as well.)Transportation took the better part of two hours (oh how I resent infrequent buses and subway delays), but I finally made it home, cake intact. We immediately cut into the cake and experienced the rich, yet light passionfruit mousse balanced with a tart raspberry coulis combining and swirling and melting in our mouths. It was heavenly.
Happy (Belated) Mother’s Day, Mom.