Uncle Cake

Yesterday marked Penny’s 7th day of life. Her one-week birthday. I wish I could bake her the teeniest, tiniest birthday cake.

I love to bake. So much so that my nieces and nephew in Vermont call me Uncle Cake. It’s cathartic (when it goes right). Going line-by-line down a recipe, precisely weighing out ingredients, meticulously decorating (but never fully satisfied with the end result). It relaxes my brain, focuses my senses. But as much as I love the process of baking, I love sharing what I’ve made with others. The joy a cookie can bring, the smile a cake can conjure. Giving someone else a moment where they don’t have to think about anything but the cinnamon bun in front of them. That first bite when their eyes light up, then shut tight. The “mmm” that follows. A dopamine shot straight to the dome. There’s not much better.

When I visit my nieces and nephews, I like to bake with them, alongside them. Show them how fun it can be to follow a recipe, create something with your hands, make something for someone else. I love doing that with them, and I always will, but I’ve been so excited to bake with our own kids some day. There’s so much that can be taught through something so simple. Patience, kindness, love. An intimate moment to bond over baked goods.

I got to feed Penny yesterday and I thought about how badly I want to bake with her. To explain why it’s better to measure by weight versus volume. To leave the oven door closed as long as possible. To let cakes cool completely before decorating. I want to bake for her, too, to say I love you with a cookie. To show her how to show her love to others. She might hate baking, and that’s ok. She might not like to cook or renovate a house or build legos. I’ll just be happy to be able to see who this little person grows up to be. To nurture her and give her what she needs to thrive. To be there to support her, but let her be her own person. More than anything, I just want to be her dad.

Here’s to seven more days, peanut. Take your time. Just know, when you do come home, I’ll have a tiny little cake waiting for you.