‘It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to keep the memory going. . .’

Before , whenever Toni Palafox baked cookies for her family--which wasn’t often--she’d burn most of them. Betty Crocker she wasn’t. But now the 33-year-old Lakeside resident not only bakes 60 dozen cookies a day, she gets up at 4:30 a.m. to do it. Palafox is the owner of The Big Chipper, a tiny shop between 4th and 5th avenues on Broadway in downtown San Diego. The shop was a surprise gift from her husband, Fausto, who thought Palafox needed a distraction after the death of their young son two years ago. In memory of her son, and as a thank-you to San Diego Hospice, which helped care for him, she donates p a rt of the sales to the hospice. Times staff writer Caroline Lemke interviewed Palafox at her store, and Barbara Martin Pinhero photographed her.

After the baby died, I had a lot of time on my hands. My husband figured I was bored, so he went out and bought the shop for me. He didn’t realize how content I was.

I was a lousy cook at home. Out of three batches of cookies, I’d burn half of them. But now I’m really getting into it. I like the mixing.

When Eric died, he was 20 months old. He was diagnosed at 15 months old with a brain tumor. We were up at Disneyland; he was this little toddler running around, and all of a sudden he stopped running. When he smiled, one side of his face wouldn’t smile.

We took him to his pediatrician who said, “Oh, he’s got an ear infection.” Finally, we took him to Children’s Hospital, where the doctors said: “We’re putting him in. There’s definitely something wrong.”

I remember the first week, people would ask if me and my husband had eaten, and it would dawn on us, “Oh yeah, we do need to do those things.” But we have two other kids, which made us get out and do the normal day-to-day routines. One of the first things I decided was that we had to keep our lives as normal as possible.

We could have put ourselves in the hospital and stayed there 24 hours a day . . . but after the surgeries, and after the doctors said they did everything they could, we said, “Fine, we’re taking over now.” That’s when we contacted the San Diego Hospice.

Our nurse, Liz, was a big help. She would play with the other kids, and do things for me so I could get away for a while. At one point, when Eric got really sick, and I had to take him in, I called Liz and told her to meet me at the hospital.

The doctors weren’t really telling me anything, and I said there was no way Eric was going to die in the hospital. If he was that bad, then I’d take him back home. Liz told me to go in the other room, and she talked to the doctors. When she came back out, she said, “I had to get nasty with them.” And Eric came back home.

I think with Eric’s illness I’ve learned that, whatever you put your mind to, you can accomplish. I never dreamed of owning my own business. It’s very risky, especially when you jump in with no background. But now I feel like I can go out and do almost anything.

I’ve built up a real rapport with the customers. We get a lot of business people; a lot of law firms that we do send out orders for all their meetings. Sometimes I come in here just to try to do some paper work, and, before I know it, I’m caught up in the front shop.

Nobody has to buy a cookie. It’s not like something you have to go and do. So everybody who comes in the door is in a good mood. By the time they leave after eating a cookie, they’re in a better mood.

The chocolate moose cookie is named after Eric because, during the summertime, he would go outside and get so dark, he’d be this little brown ball. The whole family called him a little chocolate moose. We donate a portion of the proceeds from this cookie to the hospice. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to keep the memory going and to help anybody else who can’t afford hospice services.