So, Noah turned four yesterday and I made a cake. He has asked for a Batman cake for months and months and so I mustered up my cakery skills and made this. And I am peeved. Because:
1. No one eats the cake part. Only the yellow icing which is made from a packet substance akin to building putty with a suspicious claggy chalky texture and no flavour. It is full of yellow food colouring and sugar so the kids will probably go blind or something with toxicity. The kind of toxicity that I have not only allowed, but I have positively encouraged. Am sure modern mothers are supposed to colour their icing with saffron and sweeten it with carrot juice, but Not I. Which makes me a bit of a bad mother on a smallish scale (although not if you were Gwyneth. If you were Gwyneth you would faint with the dreadfulness of it all).
2. Mark will not eat the cake part either because it ‘has no chocolate icing’, (whinge whinge). So he eats none of it at all. And yet, he asks for cake all the time. I think he loves the idea of having a wife who bakes. I also like the idea. But I am officially resigning from this calorific and oderous task whch results in cocoa everywhere and me all cranky and me eating cake at frequent intervals throughout the day just to finish it off. Thanks family, for your following-through of cake-related appreciation, and for helping me not get lardy.
Aaaaannnnyway. Noah got to choose what he wanted to do on his fourth birthday. I was hoping for the puppet theatre on the canal in Maida Vale, or the Zoo, the movies, or Bramleys or even some swimming at the Porchester Center. But Noah wanted to blow bubbles in the garden. It was an extremely cost-effective option. And it involved a traipse across the road. Such a sweet kid.
Then we scoffed pancakes at Harlem (a little breakfast cocktail for me first, ahem) then bought policeman hats from the tourist shops along Queensway enroute to the pirate park. Then we had ice creams. It was lovely. Here are the boys after their bath in their hats, looking a little bit odd: Note the extremely cranky kid on the left. Not best pleased by the cosy photo op.
In other news, my parents arrived this morning and have won the children over with gifts and magic tricks involving false teeth. Custard tried to take his out too, and only gagged. That was kind of a low point. But so far, so good. Tomorrow we begin our galavanting – we plan to do the kind of stuff that I usually can’t do on my own owing to the clambering monkey-like children that are variously strapped to my back/head/ankles etc. For once, the adult:kid ratio will be even. They have been warned.