Butterfly Cakes
When my kids transferred to a school in Queens from a school in Australia I discovered a local tradition. Children celebrating a birthday were expected to bring cake for everyone in their class. Butterfly cakes, a traditional Australian children’s birthday cupcake, seemed like a no brainer. Imagine my disappointment when my eldest daughter, Helen, reported that all but one of her classmates were too scared to eat them.
Their response shocked me – who doesn’t love a butterfly cake? Standard fare for birthday parties and school functions, Butterfly cakes are simple and scrumptious, their rejection was a mystery. What went wrong?
“They didn’t like the look of them,” Helen said. She explained that they suspected that they were poison. “The other mothers buy their cakes,” she added.
With mothers working at least two shifts between work and family, their buying cakes is understandable. Who sees a butterfly and doesn’t smile?
For me they evoked memories of elementary school days. For these Queens school kids, they manifested stranger danger. I planned to set the record straight on my next visit to the school. When I walked in the door a passing teacher spotted me, stopped in his tracks, smiled, and waved at me. Strange. I’d never met this teacher. Then a gaggle of teachers standing outside the staffroom beckoned me over.
“Zoe’s birthday is coming up, no?” my youngest’s teacher asked.
“Are you planning to make more butterfly cakes?” another inquired.
I explained what had happened, namely that the children weren’t accustomed to homemade cakes and had been too afraid to eat them. So, no, I’d probably go and buy some donut holes. Anything they were likely to eat. I added that, implied in the children’s rejection of my cakes, was an accusation. Did they really think that my family and I had moved to Queens, put our kids in school to establish trust, and then attempted to poison all the children, including my own?
“Pay them no mind. They don’t even know that milk comes from cows,” one teacher whispered. “No, no, we insist. Put that behind you, and send in another batch.”
The teachers were all smiling, leaning forward, and one licked her lips. I took a step back. I suddenly knew the fate of those butterfly cakes. Not a one of them landed in the trash as I had imagined, and those who tried them, wanted more. Knowing the teachers had enjoyed the butterfly cakes as much as most Aussies did made me feel more at home than I had since I got here. Now to win the kids over and make butterfly cakes is a tradition in Queens.
