Bake-off

Toddler boy has surpassed himself in the cross dressing stakes. He spent most of Wednesday evening in a flamenco dress. I fear there is nowhere to go from there. His sisters also did his hair into a special fan-shaped concoction. He spent much of the night giddying up round the house in delight. So delighted was he in his choice of outfit that when it came to taking it off for bed he dissolved into a scene of dramatic hysterics worthy of daughter two. 

The next day we decided to do a bake-off. The girls had been watching cupcake tutorials on Youtube by someone in stilettos [why not?] and had come up with some recipes. After a slightly emotional struggle over the cake bases which I had cooked – daughter two insisted the cakes had to have risen into a mound. I pointed out that none of my cakes ever rises into a mound. She was lucky that they weren’t the usual slightly singed offering, a side effect, I like to argue, of multi tasking rather than just plain bad cooking – the three girls positioned themselves at different workstations and set about creating their icing with a variety of food dyes. I was slightly apprehensive, but as I had to catch up on work I left the whole bake-off in the hands of my partner, the Masterchef connoisseur. Unfortunately, his idea of supervising a bake-off involves sitting at the laptop listening to Depeche Mode…

After 10 minutes, I decided to take a look. There was Flora all over the floor, making the whole kitchen a bit of an icing rink. The various dyes were dripping off the work surface. About one hundred bowls appeared to have been employed. However, the cakes were fantastic.

Daughter one had made Sesame Street characters. Daughter three had made a popcorn concoction. Only daughter two was a bit miffed that her rather complicated rainbow idea had not worked so we decided to go for a sunflower. She kept going on about “pipping” the icing and had got a variety of plastic bags with holes in them which she was squirting the butter icing through.

About an hour later after the tidying up process was over, daughter two suggested we paint her room. “You could do a sunset mural, Mummy,” she volunteered enthusiastically, perhaps a tad over confident of my artistic abilities. I replied that I needed a bit of a break before tackling any other creative projects.

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