Like many boys the boy in our family really likes the creepy crawlies, amphibians and reptiles and generally enjoys getting stuck in the muck wherever he goes. He just turned 18 and he still likes all this so it’s pretty clear what sort of career he needs to go into–no, not Return of the Swamp Man lead but someone who does stuff with insects or amphibians or reptiles.
Anyway, as it was about to be his 18th birthday I asked what kind of cake he wanted. He described an elaborate thing that sounded more like a pinata than a cake, with candy flowing out of it when you cut into it. I looked on Pinterest, source of all kinds of inventiveness. No pinata cakes of this description. Then I thought about gummy worms and how I could use them, and I recalled a vague memory of something called ‘dirt cake’. I Googled and found it but dirt cakes as Google knows them are a sort of custardy thing with crumbled Oreos on top–some even cleverly presented in new garden stuff like terra cotta pots. Cute. But not what I needed. We had to have cake. (Not just because I love cake.)
Then I realised that of course ordinary chocolate cake with crumbled Oreos on top of a layer of sticky icing could also serve to look very dirt like, complete with worms crawling out of the ground. I found some herbs from my herb pots and stuck them in one side like a little garden, leaving room for 18 candles. If I did this cake again it would probably be different but I don’t think it turned out too bad for a last minute decision the night before the Big Day.
Except for one thing. You may notice the slightly funny shape, possibly even finger marks on the edge? As I was carefully finishing off with the decorations along came Raffy, curious about what I was messing with on the table, desperate for some attention and he lept from the chair to the table–but as anyone who regularly reads this blog knows, Raffy is special and he can’t control his motor movement very well and he sort of landed/flopped onto the side of the cake. Yes, he did. Squish. One side went sort of nearly flat. After a mild freak out from me I proceeded to push and shape and reshape until it was sort of back to normal, then I got more crumbled oreos and tried to patch it up. You can’t really tell if you don’t tell anyone.
The mistake I made was in telling people this story as they ate the cake. I couldn’t help it. These things just come out sometimes. My husband looked at me like I had just announced the first ingredient of the cake was arsenic. I rolled my eyes at him. What he doesn’t realise is that every day he probably eats at least one cat hair, just by living with three of them. No, I didn’t say that to him.
Maybe I should have called this post ‘Eat cat hair!’
Just for the record, I did try very hard to get any trace of Raffy off the cake so I don’t think there was much for anyone to worry about after all.