Last summer my son had just turned five years old, a whole hand, and he had learned to write all of his letters at preschool. He went through a stage where he wanted to write letters and words all of the time and needed my husband or me to spell everything. I loved this stage, no matter how short lived.
One evening my husband was outside grilling hamburgers and the baby and I were inside getting the sides and toppings ready for dinner. Our son had complained about dinner because we have hamburgers a lot in the summer and at the time he really didn't like them. He was sitting on the outside steps with a pencil and paper asking my husband to spell I…don't…care…about…nothing…you…make. After spelling his dad casually asked him what he planned to do with the note to which came a swift reply, "I'm giving it to mom because she knows I don't like cheeseburgers and we are having them anyway." Trying his best not to laugh, my husband told him that it wasn't really a nice note.
Our son sat for a few minutes and resumed asking his dad to spell more words..I…love…you. To make the note nice. As soon as he was finished with this round, he came into the kitchen with the note; my smiling husband a few steps behind. I'll never forget reading the note out loud. "I don't care about nothing you make I love you." I bent down, hugged my son, told him I loved him too, and praised his handwriting. He walked back outside and we couldn't stop laughing. Innocent honesty.
Fast forward eight months and today he saw a four-layer chocolate cake which prompted him to ask if I could make this for his birthday. Inwardly I smiled and said we usually buy a cake so he can have cool decorations and get the kind he wants. He responded with "well, I think I'd like you just to make me a cake instead this year."
One day he'll realize how special it was for me and I know it won't be long until I make something that he doesn't care for but I'll bask in the compliment for as long as possible.