My mother called cooking “girl stuff” and openly criticized my son’s baking. My mother called cooking “girl stuff” and openly criticized my son’s baking. I expected her to change, but I underestimated how far she’d go to destroy his ambitions. Her actions got her kicked out of my house. I’m not sorry.

I’m Jacob, a 40-year-old widower father of Cody and Casey.
This happened days before my son’s 13th birthday. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and vanilla when I came home that night. Cody’s new cookie recipe left a delicious scent in the home.

My twelve-year-old kid could make magic with flour and sugar. It always reminded me of his late mother, Susan, who said baking was another way to show love.

Dad, look at my creation! Cody’s proud voice boomed across the kitchen.

He was placing golden cookies on a cooling rack with his black hair coated in flour and his apron around his small frame.

My ten-year-old daughter Casey did homework in the kitchen, unconcerned about her brother’s cooking.

“These are amazing, buddy!” I said, ruffling his hair. “Mrs. Samuels from down the street called.” She wants two dozen cookies for book club.

Cody’s eyes lit up. Really? $15!

Champions, I’m very proud of you!

What kind of boy spends all his time in the kitchen like a housewife?

My mother Elizabeth stood at the doorway with her arms folded, as if she was holding back her thoughts.

Mom, please. Not now, I said.

Jacob, you’re softening him. Boys in my generation engaged in sports and manual labor. Boys DID NOT bake!
Mom, Cody’s actions are fine. He is talented and content. He’s learning responsibility.

“Responsibility? He’s not learning responsibility. Learning to be a girl.” Mom said.

Cody stood transfixed with flour-whipped hands.

“Dad, why is Grandma so mean? She hates my baking. She continuously accused me of wrongdoing.”

Hey, hey… Pay attention, buddy. What she says doesn’t matter. You like baking? Then bake. Your skills are good. And you make me proud. That matters.”

Cody found his eyes blurry. “You promise?”

“Swear on chocolate chip cookies. Quick, bring me one before I eat this countertop!”

My youngster giggled, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and ran to the kitchen.

My heart was heavy the next morning as I left for work. Cody ate his cereal silently while Mom lectured him about “proper boy activities.”

I took him aside before leaving. “Don’t let anyone make you feel bad about yourself, okay?” I muttered, holding his shoulders.

He nodded, but I sensed uncertainty.

The day continued. A worrisome worry kept me checking my phone.

It was too quiet as I parked into the driveway at 6:30 p.m. and entered. I knew something was odd.

Cody lay on his bed in his room.
“Is everything okay, buddy?”

He glared at me with swollen crimson eyes. I can’t support this anymore, Dad. Grandma threw them out when I went home.

“Threw away?”

“Everything. All my baking supplies. I returned from Tommy’s place after school to find all my baking supplies gone. She stated boys don’t need that.”

“She cleared out what?”

“My mixer, measuring cups, pans, and decorating tips…everything. Saving allowance and birthday money for two years. The entire thing has vanished.”

Open and empty was Cody’s baking cabinet. Over $200 in carefully picked instruments, each representing a small investment in his ambitions, was gone.

“She said I needed a real hobby now.”

Mom was watching TV in the living room, as if she hadn’t devastated my son’s life.

“Where are Cody’s things?”

She simply rolled her eyes. “I disposed of them.” An adult was needed.

Did you get rid of them? You trashed my son’s stuff?

Jacob, I completed what you should have months ago. That kid should learn manhood.”
He’s 12 years old.”

“Exactly! You allow him to change into something odd.

“Unnatural? What’s unnatural? A grandma who rejects her grandson.”

Do not dare…

You wouldn’t dare. You can’t come into my house and disrupt my son’s happiness because it doesn’t fit your narrow viewpoint.

Mom reddened. “I won’t apologize for trying to save that boy from ridicule.”

“You’re the only fool. A spiteful elderly woman who hates happy children.”

“How dare you insult me!”

How dare you injure my son!

Casey entered the doorway pale. “Dad? What’s up?

Breathing deeply, I tried to calm down. “Check on your brother, sweetheart.”

She nodded and went upstairs. Returned to Mom. You must replace whatever you threw away. Tonight.”

“I won’t.”

You must depart. In the morning.”

“Kicking me out? Over baking gear?”

“I’m protecting my kids from someone who wants to ruin their happiness. My wife would have admired Cody. She would have stopped you from mistreating him.”

I’m your mom!
He’s my son. He is your grandchild, whom you have harmed due to your inability to accept boys’ preferences.

Jacob, please. I wanted to help.”

“Help? You brought my son tears. You made him question himself completely. You embarrassed him with something lovely.”

“Just make him strong.”

He’s strong. Every morning, he pursues something he loves despite people like you telling him no. I dunno what strength is not that.”

***

Cody cuddled up next me on his bed that night.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Cody murmured. Maybe granny was correct. Maybe I should try something else.”

I furiously said, “Don’t you dare”. “Don’t let anyone embarrass you or your actions.”

But what if she’s right? What if others think…?

“Look at me, Cody.”

“Your mother said baking was flavor painting. She felt creativity, patience, and love were needed.

I think you’re the coolest brother. Friends always ask if you can bake cookies.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know what? Our shopping day is tomorrow. We’ll buy everything.”

“What about grandma?”

“Grandma decided. She chose prejudice over her grandson’s pleasure. I said I’m making mine.

***

I helped Mom load her car the next morning.

“You’re making a mistake, Jacob,” she added. “That boy needs direction.”

“He needs love. Something you’re not capable of offering him.”

“I adore him. I am trying to protect him from…”

“From what? From happiness? From himself?

“I only regret letting you hurt my son.”

My phone flashed my stepfather Adams’ name as she drove away. I replied sadly.

“Jacob? What the hell did you do to mom?

“I guarded my kids.”

“She’s crying. She claims you dumped her like trash.”

“She destroyed my son’s things and judged him for baking. She hurt herself.”

“He’s young! She was aiding him!”

“Can you aid him?” He cried from her. She made him doubt himself. Not interested, if that helps.”

Your acting is dramatic.”

I’m fathering. You could understand if you have kids.

You’re a shame, Jacob. “That woman raised you; this is your thanks?”

“She chose.” Leave my son or love him. “She left.”

I hung up and looked out the window at Cody and Casey planning our shopping trip.

We stood in the kitchen supply store later that day.

He asked, “Can we really get all of this?”

“We can get whatever you need, buddy. This is your passion and space. Nobody can take that from you.”

I saw my son’s confidence slowly return as we loaded our cart.

“Dad?” Cody stated. “Thank you. For defending me.”

“Always, buddy. Always.”

When I put them to bed, Casey looked at me with her mother’s kindness.

“Will grandma return, Dad?”

I dunno, dear. She’ll do that because she knows to love you both as you are.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Then she loses. You two are the most lovely things to me.”