What did your child do when they saw someone being mean to their mom?
The Unicorn Cake and the Initial Insult
I was putting the finishing touches on a unicorn birthday cake for my neighbor Jane’s daughter, Cassie, who was turning seven and had terminal brain cancer. Jane begged me to make it special since this was likely Cassie’s last birthday.
So, I’d spent 20 hours getting every detail perfect. The horn was hand molded.
The mane had seven different colors of buttercream, one for each year of her life. I just finished placing the final touch of edible glitter when my phone buzzed.
It was Jane.
“Just saw what you’re doing to that cake.” “It looks like a diseased horse with a traffic cone on its head.”
“My daughter is going to cry.” “You’ve ruined her last birthday.”
I stared at my phone in complete shock. Before I could process it, my 11-year-old son, Jake, came into the kitchen for a snack.
“What’s wrong?” I showed him the text.
His face went from confused to hurt to angry. “But mom, you worked all night on this.”
He looked at the cake, then back at the phone. “It’s beautiful.”
“You made it for free.” “Why would she say that?”
My eyes were filling with tears. “I don’t know, baby.”
I sat down heavily and my tears started falling. “Maybe she’s right.” “Maybe it is ugly.”
“Mom, stop.” Jake came over and hugged me tight.
“This is the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen.” “Cassie’s going to flip out when she sees it.”
He pulled back and looked at me seriously. “Jane’s doesn’t get to be mean because she’s upset.”
I wiped my eyes. “You’re right.”
“But I promised she’d like it.” “Then we make sure Cassie likes it, not Jane.”
Jake started walking around the cake. “Mom.”
“Cassie told me at the hospital she dreams about unicorns.” “Let’s make this cake so incredible.”
“It’s like her dream came true.” Before I could say no, Jake pulled out supplies.
“Remember those edible flowers you made last week?” “The roses?”
He found them in the fridge. “These would look perfect around the bottom.”
Despite myself, I stood up to look. “Those might be too much.”
“Mom, if this might be Cassie’s last birthday cake, there’s no such thing as too much.” He carefully placed one, and it did look beautiful.
A tiny smile tugged at my lips. “See, you’re smiling,” Jake said triumphantly.
“Now, what about that shimmer dust?” He found my special pearl dust.
“This would make it look magical.” He started dusting the unicorn’s horn, and it began to shimmer like it was made of actual magic.
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re getting it everywhere.”
“Good.” “Cassie loves sparkles.”
“She told me they make her forget she’s sick.” Jane texted.
“I just saw what you did.” “I actually think it’s nice now.”
“I’m sorry.” “I’ll take the cake.”
Jake saw me reaching for the phone. “Mom, no.”
“She called it a diseased horse.” “We don’t answer mean people.”
We spent the next hour together, Jake making me laugh as he narrated in a silly voice. “And now the magical unicorn gets beautiful butterfly friends to watch over Cassie.”
I found myself genuinely enjoying decorating. “What if we add some clouds around the bottom?” I suggested.
“Yes,” Jake said with the cotton candy technique you showed me. Jane’s texts kept coming.
“The party is in 2 hours.” “I need that cake.”
“Cassie’s energy is fading.” “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Please, I love what you’re doing to it now.” Jake read them and looked at me.
“She’s not really sorry.” “She’s using Cassie being sick to manipulate you.”
He was right. “But mom, you know what would be really funny?”
“If we brought it right when all the parents are there.” I hesitated.
“That seems…” “Mom, she insulted your art, your art, the thing you love most.”
“Everyone should see what you did for Cassie.” Jane called five times.
Jake declined every call. “Let her panic.”
“I already texted Cassie that no matter what her mom says, the cake will be here,” he said with a mischievous grin that made me actually laugh out loud.
“Jake, what?” “She made you cry.”
An hour before the party, we carefully boxed the now spectacular cake. I was actually proud of it again thanks to Jake.
“Mom, your eyes are sparkling again.” He said, “Like they do when you’re really happy about something you made.”
As we carried it to the car, we could see Jane watching from her window. Jake waved cheerfully.
“She looks stressed,” he observed. “Good,” I said, then caught myself.
“I shouldn’t say that.” “Mom, You’re allowed to be mad at mean people.”
We waited until we could hear the party in full swing. Jake insisted on carrying the cake.
“I want everyone to know my mom made this.”
