Just Make the Cake

When I asked my son kind of cake he wanted me to make him for his 10th birthday (I started a homemade birthday tradition when all my kids were born and it has been a sweet promise to keep and look forward too) but he replied, and I quote, "a shark cake, eating a seal, but not cute". 

Some of you may know, some of you don’t, but my boy has autism. I share very little about it now, as I’ve learned that your words hold weight on this side of heaven.

Not only does his privacy matter, so does how I am introducing him to literally anyone. And I don’t like to lead with a diagnosis. Because that’s all it is, & truthfully he is much more than that. He is unique, and creative, and honest, and pays attention to detail.

Which is exactly why he asked for this shark cake.

It’s more than a request for a birthday cake.

It’s words I didn’t think he’d ever say.
It’s a homemade cake tradition I’m passing down.
It’s mom making good on a promise, even a simple
“yeah bud I can do that!”
It’s a core memory.
It’s an “I love you” and “I see you” for a boy that
doesn’t always get that in the real world.

Now, I am obviously not winning any awards for cake decorating.

There was no expectation that I was going to create the best shark cake the world had ever seen. And the funny part? I knew before I ever started making it that there was a very good chance he wouldn't even eat it.

Food can be hard for him. Because of his sensory sensitivities, there are foods he simply can't tolerate, even when he likes the idea of them. So yes, he could ask me for a birthday cake, be incredibly excited about that birthday cake, and still never take a bite.

But that wasn't the point. The cake didn't have to be eaten to matter. He asked me to make something for him. And I got to say yes.

I got to take the picture he had in his head and do my very imperfect best to bring it to life. I got to cover a cake in frosting and turn it into a shark because my boy asked me to.

That is the part I want to remember.

Because somewhere along the way, motherhood can convince us that the special things have to be elaborate to count.

The cake needs to look like Pinterest. The birthday needs to be perfectly planned. The kitchen needs to be clean before we start. We need more time, better decorating skills, the right supplies, or a weekend when life isn't quite so busy.

But our kids aren't asking us for perfection.

They're asking us to show up.

So, just make the cake.

Make it if all they do is blow out the candles.

Make it if the frosting is crooked and the shark looks a little questionable.

Make it on a Tuesday.

Make it when you're busy.

Make it even when you know they may not eat a single bite.

Make it because they asked.

Because one day, the thing you remember won't be whether the icing was smooth.

You'll remember standing in the kitchen trying to turn a cake into a shark.

You'll remember the excitement on their face when they realized you really meant it when you said you could do it. And maybe they'll remember it too. Maybe they'll remember that when they asked Mom for something that mattered to them, she listened.

She saw them.

She tried.

There are so many ways we tell our children I love you without ever actually saying the words.

Sometimes it sounds like, “Yeah, bud. I can do that.” And keeping that promise. 

Sometimes it looks like a very imperfect homemade shark cake.

And sometimes, the simplest thing we make becomes so much more than a cake.

It turns into an "I love you. I see you. I know you. I listened"

And a memory they can carry with them long after the candles have been blown out.

So, just make the cake. 

TIPS FOR THE SHARK PART! 

(very loose, imperfect, go with the flow tips)

• Start with a sturdy cake. A basic vanilla cake works great, but you want a cake that is soft enough to eat while still sturdy enough to carve and stack. Let the cake cool completely before shaping it. Chilling it first makes carving even easier.
• Freeze or chill the cake before carving. Even 30–60 minutes in the refrigerator or freezer will firm up the cake and help prevent it from crumbling while you create the shark shape.
• Don't worry about getting the shape perfect. Roughly carve the cake into a rounded shark body/head. Once you add frosting, the little imperfections disappear or become part of the shark!
• Do a crumb coat first. Spread a thin layer of frosting over the carved cake, refrigerate until firm, and then add your colored frosting. This keeps loose cake crumbs from getting mixed into your final layer.
• Use different shades of blue. I used a brighter blue for the shark and a lighter blue around the bottom. You don't need perfectly smooth buttercream; the rough frosting actually works well here because it gives the cake movement and texture.
• Make the mouth dramatic. Cut out or create an open mouth and use dark frosting or another dark edible element inside. Add red frosting around the mouth for the intentionally over-the-top shark effect.
• Toothpick-style teeth make it easy. For an edible version, use short pieces of white chocolate, slivered almonds, white candy melts cut into points, or another firm edible decoration. If using anything non-edible, remove it before serving and keep it away from young children.
• Add a toy for the story. A small shark-safe scene or figurine can instantly make a simple cake feel much more elaborate. Just wash anything that will touch the cake first and remove all non-edible pieces before serving.
• Embrace the mess. This isn't the cake to obsess over perfectly smooth buttercream or symmetrical edges. A shark coming out of the water is supposed to look a little wild.