Last weekend we visited Brent’s mom, rather belatedly, for her birthday. Mom and I sat at the table with our coffee, reminiscing about our long history.

“You’ve treated me like a daughter from day one,” I told her with gratitude. I’d met her and Dad only a couple of months after Brent and I began dating. (Even then, we both knew we’d found the one.)

“Well, you’ve always been like a daughter to me,” she said.

I reminded Mom of one visit, waaaay back when Brent and I were first married. I’d helped her make a cake. Later, she directed me to the frosting recipe printed on a cocoa tin in the cabinet.

The kitchen is cute, but didn’t have much room for storage. I have no idea how a great cook and baker like Mom, with Dad and four kids to feed, managed all her equipment in that limited cabinet space.

So I rummaged in the cabinet where she kept the spices and baking powder and such. Grabbed the first cocoa tin I found, and… “Hey, this one’s empty. Want me to throw it out?”

She looked up quickly. “No, that’s the one with the recipe on it.”

“Wait… you mean, you keep a whole empty tin, just for one r–”

“Shut up!”

We both burst out laughing.

That’s when I knew I was one of the family.

And the cake and frosting were delicious.

As near as I can figure, “polite” is all well and good when you first meet people. But there’s something about the give-and-take of good-natured teasing that really gives you a comfortable sense of belonging.

Thanks, Mom!

Thanks for reading,
Jan