So, just quickly, tomorrow is my daughter’s 4th birthday party. She wants a chocolate cake.
“Too easy!” I told her. “Aren’t I the best mother in the world!” She agreed and threw her chubby arms around my neck.**
So I have spent the best part of the afternoon making a chocolate cake.
Now, maybe I was a bit distracted having the kids so enthusiastically help me with the task. Maybe I’m just a bit caught up in the move back to Oz. Or maybe, just maybe, I just f*cked up.
The cake came out of the oven looking like a brown pancake. Then I noticed two vital ingredients were still on the bench. I had left out butter and eggs.
But still – no problem! I’ll just whip up another one and sandwich the two of them together with whipped cream! Because I’m brilliant and this whole birthday party thing is a cinch! Never mind that I meant to invite 5 friends and ended up with 15…. noooooo, that’s absolutely not a problem. And two days before we move out of this house too. Easy peasy!
So I made another cake, turned it out onto the cooling rack…
…. and it fell apart. The damn f*cker just crumbled all over the counter.
Still, I thought, I’ll just retrieve what I can and jigsaw it together as the top layer to the Cake With Key Ingredients Missing underneath.
I just went to whip the cream. And it turned into butter. Seriously. Right now, on my kitchen bench, there is a bowl with a big fat bloody lump of butter staring up at me. Mocking me. You can’t even whip cream! You’re a disgrace to your hand-held electric mixer!
Now I like butter as much as the next person, and a small part of me is somewhat congratulatory that I managed to make some with such ease.
But this is getting ridiculous.
Right – back to the kitchen.
**She told me I am stinky and ran away.