I'm sorry that I'm posting this today instead of last night. I was exhausted after writing this. I'll be updating this story again later today.
"Is it done, yet?" asked Moira, trying to peer through the oven door.
Sybil smiled. "Not yet, darling. About another five minutes."
The little girl huffed, impatiently waiting for the cake her and her mum were making together.
Seeing this, her mother knelt down to the three year old's eye level and said, "Do you want to go inside and watch some TV?"
"Nuh-uh.""
"Okay. Once the cake is done, I'll make us some lunch. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, okay?" Sybil asked her daughter.
Moira's eyes lit up. "Yes, please."
Sybil kissed her daughter's forehead and went to fetch the soup from the pantry. When she returned to the kitchen, the timer went off. Her daughter, now sitting at the table, jumped in her seat. Sybil smiled at Moira's actions. Then, she grabbed an oven mitt and removed the cake from the oven.
It was the picture of perfectly cooked chocolate cake, with two separate pans for the layers. Sybil quickly did the toothpick test and was relieved when it came out clean both times.
Moira was dancing in her seat. "When can we decorate it?"
"After lunch. The cake needs to be completely cool before we ice it. We don't want the icing to melt off. Right?"
"Right," the little girl replied with a firm nod of her head.
Sybil then went about making up the soup and sandwiches. While the soup was simmering, and after about ten minutes had passed, she removed the cake from their pans and placed them on her cooling racks. I cannot thank Maureen enough for these, she thought.
Soon, mother and daughter were eating and laughing together. It soothed Sybil's heart that she was giving Moira some one-on-one attention that she needed. Thankfully, the Branson boys were in London today having fun with Grandpa Robert. Glancing at the clock, Sybil saw that they would be home in an hour or so.
She turned to Moira. "I think the cake should be cool now. Let's clean up and start decorating it!"
"Yay!"
Moira assisted her mother with clean up, bringing the bowls and plates to the sink. The dishes were soon cleaned and it was time to ice the cake. Sybil place one layer of the cake on the cake dish and placed two dollops of cream cheese icing in the center of the layer.
"Hold onto the spatula, Moira. I'll help you ice the cake."
"Okay, mummy."
Together, mother and daughter iced the cake. Once they were done with the first layer, Sybil placed the second layer on top and they repeated everything.
"Okay, there's just one thing missing," she said. She walked over to the counter and pulled out a white container.
Walking back over, she showed Moira the container. "It's edible white snowflake confetti." She handed the container to her daughter. "Make it snow, Moira."
"AHHH!" the three year old screamed. She excitedly took the container from her mother and began to sprinkle the cake with the snowflakes. While a good portion of the confetti fell on the floor, Sybil didn't have it in her heart to mind. All she saw was the pure joy on her daughter's face.
Twenty minutes later, Sybil was cleaning up the kitchen while Moira watched Frosty the Snowman, when the Branson boys returned home. Tom got Rory out of his jacket and placed him on the floor next to Moira. Entering the kitchen, he saw Sybil on the floor, vacuuming up white specks.
Tapping her on the shoulder, he asked, "What are you doing?"
She started at his touch, not expecting him. Sybil smiled. "I'm vacuuming up all the edible snowflake confetti that Moira got on the floor."
"I need to see them," he laughed out.
His wife pointed to the cake on the counter. "They're on the cake Moira and I made. And there are still some left in the container they came in."
Tom glanced around the kitchen. "I don't see any container, Syb."
Her head popped up. "I left it the table."
"It's not there."
"That's odd," she said. "I was sure I placed it…"
Her voice died down as she heard Moira singing.
"Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!"
Her words were followed by a shaking sound.
Tom and Sybil turned to each other, eyes wide with fear. They bolted for the living room. Entering the room, they saw their three year old sprinkling the snowflakes over her brother, singing as he laughed.
"Moira, what are you doing?" asked Tom.
"I'm making it snow for Rory. He likes the snowflakes."
He turned to Sybil, kissed her temple, and took charge of clean up.
