Father’s Day at Oskar’s school


Oskar’s school had sort of screwed up the Mother’s Day communication in May and Lamia was only informed 2 days ahead of the event. For Father’s Day they clearly tried to avoid making the same mistake and had sent messages a month in advance. And so I found myself this morning at 9 am at Oskar’s school with a Hazelnut Latte and big expectations.


The fathers (and mothers) were brought into a class room to wait and when it was time to start we were to pick up our kids and go to the lunch room because we were about to bake a cake.

Oskar got an apron and had all the responsbilities and I was there as his assistant.

When we entered the room, we picked a banana. At that time it was not so clear what the scissors were for, but Oskar seemed to have some ideas…

Then the show started. The teacher who was guiding us through the activity of baking a banana cake went through all of the ingredients and the kids had to raise them up to show everything was there.

Then the (“good Malaysian”) banana had to be peeled, then put into a plastic bag and mashed into a slimy goo.

Then Oskar cracked an egg in his bowl, added two table spoons of oil and also sugar.

Then he added the mashed banana…

… and the flour.

Stir, stir, stir…

Next, the kids had to put the dough into a cardboard mould and were instructed to use the spoon to do so. Everybody did so, but – hands down – mine was the only kid who was smart enough to lift up the bowl, pour directly from it and even use the spoon to get everything out (soon copied by the other kids at our table). Oskar has seen this often when Lamia is baking, so we can assume this is where he learned that. I was so proud.

Now the mould could go onto the oven tray.

While the cake was now baking, we were focusing on some fancy decoration. For this Oskar had some cookies and chocolate and other little things to work with.

We cut the big cookie has instructed…

… built some kind of tower from it and put icing on top. Maybe not as homogeneous as they were asking for, but while the other parents were cheating, I let Oskar own the whole process and just helped with putting some of the decorative elements as described by the teacher.

It’s a car!
Or a bug.
Or a train.
Or a pig.

Having it made thus far, we only had to wait now until the cake was done baking. To keep us busy, everybody got a little plastic car (you got either a Mercedes, a BMW or a Porsche) and a marker to draw on it.

Then the cake was ready.
And where did it go? You’ll see in a moment.

First we had to crush the chocolate cookie into powder.

And put it on top of the cake and then everything – in the car.

Then our car decoration came on top…

… Oskar put a little Father’s Day flag and we were done.

I thought this was it, but now everybody had to go to the assembly hall where kid and dad and their cake were photographed. It takes a while until everybody has their photo, so first the kids were waiting nicely and patiently…

… but soon they were playing car and crashed their little creations into each other.

Next, the kids were singing songs for the dads and then the event concluded with lunch.
So, this was nice, but the whole thing was rather chaotic (of course) and at the end it left me with a sour feeling. Many parents took their kids home but I was not prepared for that because I was all set up to go to the supermarket to do our weekly grocery shopping (and if you have ever seen how much stuff I pack every week into a single trolley and considering we do not have a car, this is nothing where I can have a toddler joining).
Once Oskar realized I would not take him with me, he went with his favourite teacher who carried him back to the classroom. He did not say goodbye or hug me and just looked at me very sadly.

And I felt like a total monster and the worst dad who has ever lived.

Net, this was still a happy Father’s Day celebration and Oskar was of course totally fine when he came back from school in the evening. The cake was dreadful, by the way, but this was hardly have Oskar’s fault but more the combination of the ingredients, ratios and a cardboard mould.

But who’s going to complain when their son bakes them a cake?

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