I remember a rare day when my mother and I were out shopping for school clothes together and we passed a gorgeous dollhouse in the center of the mall that was for “sale” by raffle. Mom pulled a precious $1 bill out of her purse and bought us a raffle ticket. This dollhouse had tiny china plates at the kitchen table, real working lights, and a miniature grand piano. My 9-year-old heart was smitten.
So last Christmas, when my adult daughter mentioned that her 4-year-old had really gotten into watching YouTube videos of a mini baking show, my mind catapulted back to that day and how lucky I felt to have a few minutes of precious one-on-one time with my mom (a rarity because I had eight siblings).
I remember watching my mother hand over that precious dollar bill to buy the two of us a raffle ticket. She explained that this was only a “chance” and we would not win the raffle. Still, she bought us a ticket. I loved that we had this quiet little dream in common—something we could wish for together, and it was a secret just between us.
When I was an adult, I bought my mother a miniature dollhouse grand piano for Christmas one year, fully intending to make sure we got “our” dollhouse someday, even if it took us until she was 90 to build it. It represented a dream of something we both wanted and hoped for, but didn’t ever get….at least not yet. It meant my Mom had been a little girl like me once, and had held onto some of her most wished-for dreams. Grandma Joyce and I love miniature things.
That’s why the idea of miniature baking had such appeal to me. Christmas was coming up, and I wondered whether I could capitalize on this little common interest and create a unique Playdate for me and one little 4-year-old. I always use the same process to create a Playdatebox:
Age: This playdate is age-appropriate for kids ages 3-8 years.
Cost: The approximate cost of all purchased supplies is about $55.00.
Time Commitment: This one took us about 90 minutes to complete, including baking time.
Supplies for Your Tiny Little Baker Playdate:
Optional Supplies to Purchase:
- Book, The Tiny Baker, hardcover; by Hayley Barrett (Author), and Alison Jay (Illustrator)
- Tiny Baking Kit, or small baking pans
- Dollhouse Miniature Tea Set,
Supplies from the pantry:
- Boxed Brownie mix (plus oil, water, etc)
- Prepared frosting
- Pastry bags
- Twist ties
- Parchment paper
- Strawberries, angel food cake, peanut butter sandwiches, or other tea party supplies of your choice
- A beverage your child loves
Step 1: Stir up Something to Bake
On the day of our playdate, we had fun mixing up a batch of brownies together, with a little help from a little brother:
Next, we poured our mix into tiny little pans from our tiny baking kit and set them to bake. I baked our brownie mix at the same temperature the package recommended for a full pan of brownies, but checked every 5 minutes for doneness. These took about 7-10 minutes to bake.
If you don’t have tiny pans, just bake your tiny cakes as mini muffins or cupcakes. You can slice them into smaller shapes later if desired.
Step 2: Icing Your Tiny Little Baked Goods
Meanwhile, we practiced our cake decorating skills, which doubled as an opportunity for a youngster to practice “writing.”
I placed some prepared frosting into a disposable pastry bag, and secured the top tightly with a twist tie This helps keep the frosting inside the pastry bag. Young kids need both hands to squeeze hard enough, so this eliminates a lot of frustration from icing squishing out of the top of the bag. You could add a fancy decorating tip. I kept it simple and snipped off a tiny corner of the bag so we could pipe a simple line of icing.
I put a sheet of parchment paper on the counter and thought we could practice making shapes and letters. She thought otherwise. She only wanted to squeeze icing out of the bag in swirls and patterns.
When our tiny little cakes had cooled, we frosted them with the icing swirls we had been practicing.
Step 3: Read the Story Together
The tea party setup was fun! First, we read our book, The Tiny Baker, by Hayley Barrett, illustrated by Allison Jay. This sweet little rhyming masterpiece tells the story of a community of insects who love to visit the bakery of their teeny-tiny baker friend who makes all sorts of delicious miniature treats. One day, the ladybug pastry chefs who usually help in the kitchen fly off, leaving a giant mess and a big problem! Tiny Baker learns all about friendship as her insect customers pitch in to help.
I love the illustrations in this sweet little book. The posh little insect people, the delectable miniature treats, and the beautiful colors are a feast for the eyes. I dare you to read it without wishing for your own chocolate eclair!
Step 4: Set up Your Tiny Little Tea Party
Next, we made peanut butter sandwiches (my 4-year-old chef’s specialty) and cut up some teeny-tiny strawberries to decorate the tops of our cakes.
Once Mom finished her meetings for the day and was off work, it was time for the tea party!
Doing This Long-Distance…
To enjoy this playdate long-distance with a grandchild who lives far away, consider shipping a copy of the book in advance. Make arrangements with the adults on the other end of the call to set up a teacup and saucer with a few small treats. Make sure you have a teacup and saucer on your end of the call as well. Your grandchild can enjoy sipping their beverage while you read the book. Afterward, you can have a conversation about anything that your young baker wants to discuss.
The Family Story: It’s Good To Have Friends
I don’t typically spend time moralizing about the lessons taught in children’s literature. That’s the book’s job, and part of why most rhyming books feel so heavy-handed to me. I think a child is astute enough to realize when she’s being given unsolicited advice, and I think it’s off-putting for children, just like it is for adults.
So I love the way this story teaches a principle without beating us over the head with it. This book shows an example of good neighbors who roll up their sleeves to help their baker friend out of a tight fix. Almost all of us have a story like it—a time when we had to depend on someone to come to the rescue. And telling those family stories is important for our grandchildren.
The tiny little baker in my life is my mother. More times than I can count, she’s the one who has shown up for me when I was in over my head. She has used her gentle gifts to ease my way. Tea sets, lovely food, and the fragrance of brownies in the kitchen are just part of the language that crisscrosses the generations and connects us. I want to pass that sense of safety on to the next generation.
Miniature Memories
A four-year-old is probably too young to remember stories I tell her, but when we repeat stories that are important to us, and connect those stories with happy memories, we increase the chances the stories will stick. Knowing this, I shared the story of the first time I encountered a teeny tiny tea set. It was that day long ago when my mother took me school shopping and we spent money on something money couldn’t buy: Hope and Dreams.
We didn’t win the dollhouse, (even though I had hoped so much that we would). My mom reassured me. “Grandpa can build us one,” she said. And he did, but it didn’t have working lights. He didn’t understand the full vision. He built a dollhouse that was sturdy enough to play with. I think we both wanted something breakable and fragile. Something that only the two of us would ever treat with the respect it deserved. Something gorgeous and impractical.
Because my mother and I are both practical women, we’ve never justified the time or expense of creating our dollhouse in real life. We both still tinker with miniature things, though. I quietly gather acorns and dream up designs for fairy garden furniture when I’m on my evening walks. With help from each of her 9 children, Mom built a longed-for garden train village for herself for her 80th birthday. Ask her what she really wants for Christmas, and she’ll go buy it for herself: She’ll come home with a miniature carousel with a gazebo and tiny skaters on a glassy mirror pond (then tell her children what she really needs is a new vacuum).
Once I was a little older (age 11 and too old for a dollhouse, even in my own dreams) we were on a family vacation and visited the Queen Mary Ship, docked in Long Beach, California. Mom and I wandered through the gift shop after the tour (which I don’t remember one thing about). Mom spied a set of tiny dollhouse dishes and suggested they might be a souvenir I would like.
Today, this tiny tea set rests on a shelf in what used to be my daughter’s bedroom, among other trinkets from her childhood. I don’t recall whether I ever explained its significance. She’s all grown up with a four-year-old daughter of her own. The day will come when that 4-year-old will be drawn in by the fragile mementos on this shelf. They will call to her from somewhere in our collective memory. And maybe she will remember the day when we baked tiny little cakes and topped them with chocolate icing and slivers of strawberries. I read her a story about a bumblebee baker while she rested in my lap. We sipped peach soda from cups smaller than a thimble. The memory of it in my imagination is real enough. I smell brownies just thinking about it.
