With the final two in the oven, the Boys and I have wiped the last of the chocolate mix from our cheeks, our hands, and the walls. (Just kidding, sis, in who's kitchen this final extravaganza has taken place). And of course I'm also kidding about wiping the cake mix off my face - my body is a temple. I didn't touch the dreadful stuff myself...
Yesterday in the comments box I was asked why my mother needed so many birthday cakes. Well, firstly - and most importantly - I am of the opinion that one can never have too many birthday cakes. (Some day I hope someone will apply this logic to my own birthday...) Secondly, whilst they are all for her birthday, only three of them are strictly birthday cakes; the others are for pudding at the dinner she's having for to celebrate reaching a not insignificant number tomorrow. And yes, I know that still leaves her with 3 actual birthday cakes, but one was for her birthday proper at the beginning of the week (and is now an ex-cake), and two are to dish out to friends and family at her party with coffee tomorrow. And thirdly, a girl's got to get her sugar fix from somewhere, and if it takes offering to be Head Baker to justify the odd finger-full of sweetness from a bowl of cake-mix, well, bring it on.
Now, amazingly enough, baking is not the only activity that happens in the Potty household, and in a desperate attempt to dispel that thought here's a link to Have a Lovely Time, where I've written a review of a trip the Boys and I made to the Hawk Conservancy in Hampshire earlier this week.
We took cake.