A couple weeks ago, Landon and I made a delicious rum cake for my bible study ladies. We measured and stirred and poured. It turned out great. That night he got to have a little slice before everyone came and he said it was delicious.
After my group that night, I covered the cake – there was still over half left – yum! and put it on the counter for the next day.
In the morning I awoke to sounds in my kitchen. Dean often gives Landon some yogurt to eat before he leaves for work in the morning, so I assumed he was down there eating his yogurt and I proceeded to dress Brooks for the day.
About 10-15 minutes later, I walked downstairs with Brooks to find this:
Yes, that is my rum cake – nearly destroyed – as Landon was up there helping himself to fistfuls. I was furious.
Several thoughts ran through my mind:
A. It’s not healthy to eat an entire cake.
B. He was getting into something he wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to be finishing his yogurt at the table, but there was something too tempting for him to resist.
C. I felt guilty for not catching him sooner – how could I let this happen?
D. Man, the cake was gone and I wasn’t going to get another bite…
I’ve been studying the book, “Unglued” and let me tell you, I was coming unglued in that moment. I told him to go sit in time-out as I fumed.
As I started to clean up the mess, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye:
There was cake wedged in my knife set. I started pulling out my knives – one by one, each had crumbs caked all over, streaks of cake glaze. The big 8 inch blades, the little steak knives, they all had cake all over them. There were two cake-crusted butter knives he must have pulled out of the silverware drawer, used and then jammed into open steak knife slots.
Instantly it hit me. He could have gotten so hurt. He could have fallen off the chair with a knife, cut himself, this could have been disastrous. He knows he is not supposed to touch those knives. Every time he’s up cooking with me, he tells me, “Mom, only mom and dad touch these knives. I don’t touch them, right?!” Well, he obviously disregarded that rule this morning.
I went into a screaming rage. I freaked out. It sunk in more. Landon had been up there standing on a chair, cutting pieces of cake with HUGE knives. I could have come downstairs to a bloody mess, a gravely injured child. Or worse.
I’ve never screamed so much at my child in my life. “You never, never, ever touch knives. Never!!!!!!” He cried, I was nearly in tears. It was awful. I was mad at myself for giving him some freedom – what did I expect, he’s three. I knew it was just another instance where I made a bad choice. I felt huge guilt.
I took pictures so I could show Dean what happened. I texted him still flustered – “this was a very, very bad morning”. It was one of my hardest moments, so far, as a parent.
We’ve since changed our policy on Landon getting to eat breakfast by himself in the mornings, he’s now stuck upstairs with mom, reading his books until we all go down together.
It’s a blessing that God was watching over him that morning.
It’s a blessing that it was only a cake that got ruined that morning and not something way more valuable.
Sidenote: Always trying to put a little humor into the situation, my sister texted me the next night with the following:
“I was thinking of a few positives from the cake incident. 1. Landon used the right utensil to cut the cake… this will be handy when he’s older and hosting birthday parties. 2. He didn’t eat the last piece… what self control. 3. After all the discipline, he seems to have a good sense of humor about it. 4. He’ll learn what a hangover is tomorrow and never want to drink again!”