Sharing really is caring.
Which, really, is what gave me the best laugh I’ve had in a while.
But more on that towards the end, because how it started was three months ago with Monkey Boy telling his parkour class that I would be bringing cupcakes to class one night.
They were all expecting them the following week; partly because it had just been Chippie’s birthday and I had loads left over so I took them to the class to get rid of them. They went pretty quickly.
Then, eventually, his birthday rolled around and there was talk of his cake, and Parkour Cupcakes.
He suddenly decided that taking cupcakes to parkour- after promising everyone almost weekly for near on 12 weeks – would be way embarrassing! and that I was not to do it.
Then he decided that he loved his iPhone more than me, and had a few discussions with Siri to make himself feel better.
I suggested if Siri was his favourite, then Siri could make his cakes.
“Damnit!” he says, clearly thwarted.
“SIRI!” he demands. “Make me a birthday cake.”
I snorted a derisive “HA!” when she declared that it was beyond her capabilities. In fairness, sometimes they are beyond mine, but at least I own it.
“Damnit! he says, again. “SIRI! Make mum make me a cake!”
This, too, is beyond her capabilities. Or so she says.
And I laugh. Some more. Given I have already started the cake making bit, I decided I’d just have to not share with him, because in that moment, I love cake more than I love him.
When I say I “started”, I mean I was all organised and prepared last week, and whipped up a batch of chocolate mud cake cupcakes and he was “too tired” (he was) and we didn’t end up going.
So, last night, I had a whole batch of scrumbly, delicious cupcakes, that he was too embarrassed about taking along to the class, but had decided that he did love me more than he loved Siri and his iPhone.
The Parkour Cupcakes, which I had inadvertently made to look like boobs, such is my talent that I can do miraculous things without even realising it, went down a treat.
A number went before the class, and the instructor used the remainder as
bribery incentive to get the best out of the class.
He got the idea from me.
I was glad to be of assistance.
There were still quite a number remaining. Enough, really, for about two or three more each.
They were in rapture as they devoured the cakiness of the cups, spluttering cake crumbs as they praised my efforts.
Yes, yes, I did feel a little proud.
Whilst I don’t particularly have a great deal of talent in making them look symmetrical and amazing, I do make a damned good cake.
They also commented on how awesome they were cos they weren’t piled so high with icing; which is one of my pet hates.
“You should make these and sell them,” was the common theme.
Ah .. yeah … nah.
It came down to one cupcake, and Monkey Boy and one of the girls – by which I mean “adult woman” – arguing over who got the last one.
I had to step in and tell Monkey Boy to share.
Then, for some inexplicable reason, I stated “You can have cupcakes at home any time!”
It was the look he gave me that made me realise what I had said; as though I spend all weekend baking cupcakes.
Look, I don’t mind a cupcake, but it’s not something I spend my “spare” time doing. I’ll do it for specific occasions, assuming the need calls for it. If not, I avoid them like the plague. It’s far easier to do one big cake and ganache that, not 48 bloody small versions of cake, the uncooked batter of which I managed to drip every-frigging-where because I am so talented.
And icing each individual cake.
Not a fan.
So I’m not really sure why I said he could have them at any time.
And I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
Best laugh I’ve had in ages; even if it was me that caused it.
I think I’ll have a chat to Siri about cupcake baking days, yes?