If You Bake With Boys

by Jennifer W. Fink

If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll ask for a glass of milk. And if you bake with boys, they’ll blow muffin cups across the floor.

In Laura Numeroff’s classic book “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,” satisfying the mouse’s simple request begins a wild, full-circle journey. The cookie leads to the milk, which leads to a straw, a napkin, a haircut, housecleaning, a story, a picture, Scotch tape, the refrigerator and another glass of milk – which leads to another request for a cookie.

Homeschooling is like that.

I was cleaning out my pantry when I discovered two bags of wheat germ. Deep in the process of decluttering, I considered tossing the extra bag. Then I noticed the muffin recipe printed on the front. We had all the ingredients! I decided to bake muffins with the boys in the morning. I pictured my boys, ages 9, 6 and 3, reading directions, measuring ingredients and stirring batter.

The next morning I pulled out the muffin pans. Nathan, my oldest, wasn’t interested; he was more interested in his computer game. So much for reading.

Tyler, my six-year-old, and Adam, my three-year-old, happily scampered into the kitchen. Tyler figured we’d need four half-cup measures of wheat bran to equal the two cups needed. Adam dumped it in. They fought over the wooden spoons, measured baking powder and soda and cracked eggs. When Adam got restless, I asked him to put the paper muffin liners into the pans. He counted out the liners and placed them in the pan. Then he started playing with the leftover liners.

“Hey, how come Adam gets to play with those?” Tyler asked. He watched Adam blow a muffin cup into the air. Adam just smiled and giggled.

I’d been saving paper muffin liners for over a year. So many times, I’d almost thrown them away. But Muffin Day, it seemed, was their day. I pulled the liners out of the craft cupboard and handed them to Tyler.

“Here, you two can play with these. There’s glue in the cupboard too, if you want it.” I pictured muffin cup flowers, creative collages and other assorted arts and crafts.

“Thanks, Mom!” Tyler said, his eyes lighting up. He held the stack of muffin cups in his hands. He breathed in and gently exhaled. The muffin cups fluttered up and flitted apart before settling back into a neat stack. He blew harder. They separated again, then settled. He blew harder still. The muffin cups blew to the floor.

“Cool!” he said.

Adam laughed and blew his cups to the floor too. Tyler squatted down and breathed deeply. WHOOSH! A breath of hot air sent his muffin cups scattering across the kitchen floor. Pretty soon, the boys were racing their muffin cups across the floor and competing to see who could blow their cups the farthest.

I’d lost my helpers, but the boys were having fun. They slithered on the floor, watching the liners scatter. Even though we were relatively new homeschoolers, I knew enough to leave them alone. They were completely engrossed.

“I win again!” Tyler stood victorious, his hands in the air. “I’m bigger than Adam, so my lungs are bigger,” Tyler explained. “My lungs can hold more air, so that’s why mine always go farther.”

I looked up, stunned. What originally looked like play was obviously leading to scientific discovery.

The boys were off again, racing muffin cups, when inspiration struck.
“You guys want a straw?”

Tyler looked at me quizzically.

“Here,” I said, pulling out a straw. “Like this.” I put the straw to my mouth and gently blew.

“Oh!” Tyler and Adam eagerly grabbed straws. Tyler placed his in his mouth and aimed it at his muffin cups. The muffin cups danced away. He gathered them up, pulled the straw from his mouth and tried again. The cups blew further away.

“Hey, Mom, look! Did you see that?” he asked.

“I sure did. Pretty cool!”

Tyler repeated his experiment over and over. I placed the muffins in the oven and started doing dishes. Tyler took a break and circled back to the kitchen.

“I think the straw focuses the air all in one place,” Tyler said. “That’s why they go farther with a straw. ‘Cause it’s the same amount of air. The straw just keeps it in one place, instead of it blowing all over.”

“Think so?” I asked.

“Yep!” The straw still dangled from his mouth.

I smiled. “I think so too.”

I pulled the muffins from the oven, and the boys poured back into the kitchen. We shared a snack of warm muffins before Tyler grabbed his straw and headed out of the kitchen.

Like the mouse in the story, we’d come full-circle. We started baking muffins. We veered off into muffin cup races and laughter, straws and scientific discoveries. We ended with muffins – and boys blowing muffin cups across the floor.

About the author:
Jennifer L. W. Fink is a freelance writer and homeschool mom. She lives and learns with her husband and 4 sons (Nathan, Tyler, Adam and Sam) in Mayville, WI. She may be reached at jenwrites4you@yahoo.com..