The Baker's Son

Everyone has a moment when life's map begins to unfold for them. For Izzy, her moment was pulling out a piping hot batch of gingerbread cookies from her Nana's oven. The smile on Nana's face still lingers in Izzy's mind every time a batch of cookies comes out of the oven. It usually brings a smile to her face, but this day was different.

There was a melancholy in Izzy as she mixed the flour with the spicy warmth of ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. Her mind wandered to the peaceful smile her Nana had as she watched the clumsy young hands of Izzy whirl a whisk with such enthusiastic vigor that clouds of flour would billow to the air. She only wished that she had her own tiny apprentice to spill the vanilla and crack the eggs.

It was not that Izzy was lonely or had a life unfulfilled. She had a successful bakery on Main Street and a loving husband who doted on her. Still, Izzy had desperately wanted to have a child. Izzy and Peter had tried for years to conceive with no luck and, while both had agreed to take a break from the stress of trying, Izzy couldn't help but feel her chance for a family was slipping away.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that were ringing through her head as she kneaded and rolled the dough. Two chubby little legs and two chubby small arms haunted her mind as she sliced through the dough. Her emotions were so strong, as she lifted her work to a baking sheet, that a few tears slipped from her eyes to her creation below.

It was then, as the bleariness cleared from the few fallen tears, that she realized she was gazing upon a gingerbread boy. A laugh slipped from her lips at how silly her mind had worked. Her longing for a child was so intense that her hands obliged. "No use in letting the little guy go to waste." She said to herself as she slid the pan into the oven and set her attention to the icing.

Izzy sifted and whisked her way to icing as her sweet little man baked beside her in the oven. "He will be funny from the nutmeg." She mused to herself. "Warm and kind from the cinnamon." She continued as she set the icing in the mixer. "And, of course, he will have some mischievousness from the ginger. But mostly, he will be my sweet as sugar little boy."

A nervous giggle erupted from deep inside Izzy as the baking timer chimed. "I am so silly," she thought to herself. "It's just a cookie; no more a boy than this oven mitt." But as she pulled the cookie from the oven, she couldn't help but feel a special bond for her sweet boy.

Izzy tenderly laid him on the cooling rack before grabbing the icing. She kept stealing glances at the cookie as she filled the piping bag. She began by edging pant cuffs, and if her ears did not deceive, she swore she heard a stifled laugh. Next, she outlined shirt sleeves and a collar around his neck to another round of muffled laughter. "No, I'm just hearing things." She said to herself as she pinned three tiny buttons down the cookie's front.

A broad smile came next, but, to her surprise, it formed an O all on its own. "Oh, it feels so good to have a mouth." The voice creaked at first as the little cookie lungs filled with air. "If only I could see who I should thank." Izzy was startled, but once the words registered, she pricked two eyes on the tiny face only to see them immediately begin to blink. "Oh yes, I knew my mom would be the prettiest woman I've ever seen." The icing mouth spread to a broad smile. "Although you are also the only woman I've ever seen, you must be an excellent baker. I bet I smell delicious." His smile slipped to a bit of a ponder at the thought of smelling.

"Oh, I can fix that." Izzy piped a tiny nose in the center of the small face.

Immediately she heard the swish of air. "Ah, I do smell delicious. Too sweet to eat, right mom?"

Izzy looked down on this little guy gazing back at her. "Yes, much too sweet to eat."

The cookie sat up and looked at the kitchen around him. "What is my name?"

"Your name?" Izzy was still taken aback by the scene of it all. "Of course, every little boy needs a name, I suppose. I think I will name you John; John Dough."

"John Dough." The boy stretched now and let out a yawn. "I like it. I like my name." As he spoke, his eyes hung heavy.

"Are you sleepy, my little Johnny-cake?" Izzy cooed at her honied little man.

"Mm, being made is exhausting." Johnny slumped a bit back down to the cooling rack.

"Let me fix you a bed." She smiled. Izzy glanced around the kitchen, looking for a good bed. "Let's see; this bread pan should work." She tucked a tea towel in the bottom with a fresh sponge as a pillow. "Come here, my love." As she spoke, she gently picked Johnny up and laid him in his new bed. Once he was settled, she tucked a second tea towel around him like a blanket.

"Thanks, mom. I love you." His words came heavy as he drifted off to sleep.

As Johnny grew older, so did his curiosity. Izzy found herself cursing the heaping teaspoon of ginger on more than one occasion. Johnny would fly down the railing with a delighted "whee" or jump from couch to chair with happy giggles.

"Be careful," Izzy warned, but she was always ready with extra dough and icing if ever her cookie boy began to crumble.

Of all the games they played, Johnny loved tag the most. Running was his favorite past-time. Occasionally, when the weather was exceedingly fair and dry, they would play in the yard. Johnny loved to run in the sunshine with the grass of the lawn pulling against his legs. But one day, he caught a glimpse of children playing at a playground down the street.

"Mom, can we go play with the other children?" Excitement bubbled in his voice.

"Oh, Johnny, I don't think so." Izzy gazed down the street at the orphanage playground.

"Why, mom? It looks like so much fun?"

Izzy couldn't help but smile at her impish little love. "Johnny, you are different from the other little boys. You are extra sweet and could crumble from too much fun." She gave his icing nose a little twitch. "Besides, if you were off playing with all those kids, who would be here to keep me company?"

"Oh, mom." The refusal dejected Johnny.

"Come on, my little one. Clouds are coming in, and we wouldn't want you to melt in the rain." She ushered her little gingerbread man into the safety of their home.

But Johnny didn't forget the other children nor the playground. He would often ask about other children and why they were different from him. "Because your mom loves you so much, you sprung to life right out of the oven." Johnny would smile and snuggle into his mom at this, but she knew he still longed to play with others.

On a fair and sunny day, while playing outside, he saw his chance. "Mom, I'm too tired for tag today. Can we play hide and seek instead?"

"Of course. Do you want to count or hide?" Izzy patted her beloved boy on the head.

"Oh, I want to hide. I am the best hider."

But as Izzy shut her eyes to count, Johnny took off down the road. He passed the house with the barking dog, dodge the sprinkler, and found himself at the edge of the playground. He wanted to run and play with all the children, but suddenly his mother's caring voice filled his ear. "You are so fragile, my love."

"Hello." A quiet voice came from beside the bench. "I've never seen a cookie walk up to a playground before."

"I'm not just a cookie," Johnny said defiantly. "I'm a gingerbread man. My mom made me with so much love I popped out of the oven and into her arms."

"Oh," the boy said with a sad face.

"Why are you so sad? You get to play here with all these kids. You can whizz down the slide, and swoop on the swing, and you can run and play tag whenever you want."

"Not exactly." The boy said as he rocked the wheels of his chair back and forth.

"Oh," Johnny eyed the wheelchair.

"And I don't have a mother or a father." He added mournfully.

Johnny began to miss his mother. She must be worried about him by now; he had never hidden for this long. But he was curious about the boy. "I bet you can get going really fast in that, and you don't have to worry about puddles as I do. My mom says I always have to watch where I am going because I am so sweet that one splash in a puddle, and I would melt away."

"I can get going pretty fast," the boy said, perking up. "You could ride on my shoulder, and I bet none of these other kids would catch us!"

"Yeah!" Johnny excitedly said as he leaped to the boy's shoulder. "I'm Johnny." He added as he clung to his new friend's shirt.

"I'm Benji." The boy chirped as he gripped the wheels of his chair. "Hold on tight, Johnny!" He hollered as they rocketed out to the playground.

Johnny called out to the other children, "run, run, as fast as you can; you can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man!" Giggles erupted around the playground as the other children joined the chase. Johnny and Benji gleefully squealed as the other kids tried unsuccessfully to catch them.

Izzy arrived to see her sweet boy hurtling around the playground with nothing but a loose grip of a t-shirt to keep him safe. "Johnny," she called out in dismay.

When Johnny heard his mother's voice, he faltered, losing his grip and ricocheting to the ground. Izzy watched in shock, knowing the impact would crumble his tiny body. She tried to reach him, but he was too far from her. Johnny shattered on the ground into bits of cookie and icing.

Izzy grasped at the pieces as one of the children callously murmured, "too bad; he looked delicious."

"I'm sorry," Benji spoke mournfully from his chair. "He was not just a cookie; he was a gingerbread man." Benji knew how much Izzy loved her sweet boy. He watched as she collected herself and wished that one day somebody would love him as much as Izzy loved Johnny.

Izzy hurried home and gathered all her ingredients. She rolled out batch after batch and piped tiny face after tiny face, but no giggles came from these cookies. She worked into the early morning hours until there were no ingredients left, just row after row of silent gingerbread men.

When she awoke the next morning, she felt empty. There was no sweet boy for her to care for and fret over. She packed up the cookies and carried them down to the playground, sharing them with the children that Johnny had admired so much. Then she sat on the bench and watched as the children ran, and slid, and swung; all the things Johnny had longed to do with them.

"Johnny told me how you loved him so much that he came to life." Izzy had been so wrapped up in her mourning that she had not seen the slight boy in a wheelchair beside the bench. "He was a lucky boy to have a mother like you."

"I couldn't keep him safe." They were the constant words in her mind.

"It was my fault; we just wanted to play." Benji's face sunk.

Izzy finally lifted her eyes to the boy to whom she had been speaking. She found a sweet cherub face bowed down towards his lap. "Johnny loved to play. I think you may have been his best friend." She smiled kindly at the boy.

"I've never had a best friend before." His voice sounded hopeful for a moment. "But now he's gone."

"Well, we have each other," Izzy decidedly spoke as she passed the last couple of cookies to him. "My name is Izzy."

"I'm Benji."

"Hello, Benji." She smiled as he took a bite of one of her cookies.

A smile spread across his face. "These cookies are delicious; you must be the best baker in the whole world." Izzy smiled as she recalled Johnny saying the same thing. "They taste just like..." Then Benji paused, remembering what Johnny had said about his mother baking him with so much love he sprung to life. "They taste like love."