Family Poem for Kids

Memories Of Baking With Mom

Growing up, I began baking muffins fairly young, initially with my Mom, later on my own. It fascinated me. Eventually I began recruiting my little siblings to help. Baking is an art, not a science, and any art has a bit of magic about it. Maybe it's my Chestertonian view of life. What turns flour, butter, eggs, etc. into cookies or muffins? Magic.

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Muffins With Momma

© more by Michaela Hart

Published by Family Friend Poems August 2018 with permission of the Author.

Momma's in the kitchen
making muffins for me.
There's eggs, raisins, milk
And white powdery stuff I see.

She says it's flower,
but doesn't look the same.
With all those cups and bowls around,
it looks like a fun game.

Momma says if I help her
there'll be a tasty prize.
She'll stick some batter in the oven,
and I can watch it rise.

I'll watch it slowly grow
from sticky stuff to muffins.
How that happens, I don't know/
It is by magic somethings.

Then a muffin I'll gobble
up into my little tummy.
Those muffins will disappear
like magic, and so yummy.


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