By Winifred Smith, Colne
I’m helping Georgina make buns
My grandchild who last spring made three.
And even if flat and uneatable
They will take place of honour at tea.
We’ve scrubbed at our fingers ‘til sore
And fastened big pinnies around.
Kneading, pouring and stirring
Sorting choice plums to weigh out a pound.
Working hard to smooth oh sweet icing
Chubby fingers try their awkward best.
What bit do we think is the middle?
In which a bright cherry will rest.
There’s flour all over the carpet
Grease spots tread into the floor.
But does any of that really matter?
When you’re three and a long way from four.
I’ll remember these fun times forever
As I warn that the oven so hot.
The day when with love we cheered ‘cupcakes!’
Will be cherished and never forgot.