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Three layers tall, the cake had taken Sydney two days to make. She hand-carved each of the animals, matching their faces and coloring to the ones that slept on Everly’s bed. She’d even remembered the pink skirt that went around the hippo’s waist and the pink tie that hung from the giraffe’s neck. Since Sydney knew how much Everly loved the mountains, that was the design of each layer, the animals grazing, climbing, resting in different sections and along the base.
This wasn’t just a cake.
This was a masterpiece that had been baked and designed straight from Sydney’s heart.
But I wasn’t sure my daughter understood that part.
I rubbed the back of Everly’s neck and said to her, “Do you know that Sydney made this cake just for you?”
“Like when we bake?” Everly asked her.
Sydney nodded. “Yes, like when we make cupcakes, but this was a bit bigger of a project.”
“I love it, Syd.” She wrapped around Sydney’s waist, holding on to her, not letting go. “Sooo much.”
While Sydney held Everly’s head, she looked at me, her face filled with something I recognized.
Something I felt as I glanced between both my girls.
