Man + Kid + Cake = Hero

I’m handing you over to my husband today.  Be gentle on him please.  Although I would just like to say that of course I didn’t buy the cake, heavens no! It was my evil, long-lost twin. She’s always doing stuff like that.

Step aside Einstein and your so-called “theory of relativity.” Enigma code … please.

After 35 years on the planet, I have finally found a way to make more than one woman smile at the same time. Seriously.  Knackered mothers, no less.  And it really wasn’t that hard.

Being a bloke by yourself with an uber-cute daughter helps.

But it was bringing cake to a midweek playgroup which sent my stocks through the roof.

Attending playgroups can be dangerous territory for men.  It is tough to work out when is the right time to throw in a joke during a conversation about childbirth or female plumbing.  And some of the looks you receive, you pray people just think you are unemployed.

To be fair, the vast majority of mothers are quite welcoming. With cake, almost bordering on flirty.  Armed with an orange cake (I think) my wife had bought the day before that even had a big slice missing from it, I felt like Brad Pitt or George Clooney.  At least for one morning.  I don’t think I have received so many collective smiles and thanks yous from a group of women in my entire life.

Maybe it was just compared to the usual tea and biscuits, the cake had an exotic quality to it.  Maybe it was just good timing. Maybe it had nothing to do with me being a bloke.  I think it did.  Who knows?

Whatever it was, I have not been back since and I work during the week as well as weekends.

What should I do for an encore?  Never turn up again and have gone out on a high? Or actually get off my arse and bake a cake?

This November, I’m writing (or getting someone else to write) one post every day as part of NaBloPoMo.

NaBloPoMo 2011

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