Mothers and Sons

As a single mom, those moments when you can really connect with your teenage son are rare - and incredibly important. Sometimes you can plan them, but more often than not, they just happen. 

Tonight, one just happened. 

To back up just a little, this is Labor Day weekend, which means that my kids (and I) had a day off from school this past Friday, and another on Monday (although my son and I are both marching in a parade with the high school marching band - but that's another story). I had told my kids that if they wanted to do something fun on either Friday or Saturday, to let me know. Neither one came up with an idea, but my Facebook memories reminded me of going apple picking with them when they were little, so I decided that we needed to go apple picking. 

I tried bribing them with a corn maze and llamas, but those went over like a lead balloon.

Then I tried bribing them with the promise of cider donuts at the orchard and apple pie when we got home, and that sold them. 

We began with a walk around the little store at the orchard, which offered samples of the various kinds of apples that were currently ripe for picking: Sansa (which had been recommended by a friend), Akane, Ginger Gold, Gravenstein. Not varietals with which I was familiar, but after tasting a juicy, fresh, not-too-sweet Sansa, I was gung-ho to pick them all.  So we bought a peck bag for picking - and half a dozen cider donuts - and headed outside.

We sat at a shady picnic table to enjoy our donuts, and the kids noticed a goat wandering around outside the pens, so we strolled over to check out the various beasts: three polka-dot pigs, a bunch of chickens (many of whom were standing on top of their shelters, a fact which both kids found hilarious), a llama, and a number of goats (there were supposedly also miniature horses but we missed them somehow). 

 

For a couple of quarters, we got a bunch of animal chow and fed the goats through the fence and via a pulley system, and the pigs through a funnel-and-tube delivery system. The kids acted all cool about it, but I suspect they were as tickled as I was. 

We finally drifted over to the actual orchard and wandered up and down the rows of different varieties. My son, being extremely tall, was able to pick many perfectly ripe apples that were just a little bit too high for the average picker to reach, so we quickly filled our bag with gorgeous apples. 

After another quick trip into the store to pick up an apple-cinnamon-scented candle and a cider slushie (delicious!), we headed for home. The drive home was filled with discussions of what to make first: apple crisp, apple pie, apple fritters, apple muffins...the unanimous decision was apple pie. So as soon as we got home, I got baking, with a little help from my son, and we made a gorgeous apple pie. It was supposed to be dusted with white sanding sugar, but all I had was red, so the pie looked vaguely like a pizza. Fortunately, it tasted exactly like a delicious apple pie. 

It didn't even last until lunch the next day. Delicious!

With the pie gone but quite a few apples left, my son was eager for another recipe. My daughter was off at a birthday party all afternoon, and he had a Scout meeting before dinner, but as soon as we got home, he asked if I was planning on making anything in particular with the remaining apples. I was toying with the idea of apple muffins that we could have for breakfast, I told him. But I can make anything you want. Or you can. His face lit up and he asked if he could make apple fritters. Absolutely, I said. Let me know if you need help. 

I pulled up a recipe I had saved on my laptop and did a quick inventory of the ingredients to make sure we had everything, then I set him loose. While he began measuring, I made myself a cocktail and sat at the kitchen island to watch while he bustled around. He began humming to himself as he cooked (I can't imagine where he picked up that habit) and I reminded him that background music is practically a requirement in this kitchen. So he asked Alexa to play his playlist. 

His father was never a fan of his hip hop and R&B music, but I've actually begun to enjoy it - and especially to enjoy hearing him talk about it and why he likes it - so I frequently recognize some of the music in his playlist. And since the first song was by Bruno Mars, we both spontaneously began to sing along. 

My grown son, cooking on his own, happily singing - happily allowing me to sing along - hanging out in the kitchen with his mom - willingly. That is a moment. A wonderful, memorable mother-son moment. 

Oh, and the fritters were pretty amazing, too.