What happens at granny’s, stays at granny’s

After preschool pickup we have a bonfire cake of such chocolateyness it barely made it home.  

After a desultory stab at lunch, (I wonder why?) and a small eternity of dinosaur programmes, William reminds me I promised we’d make gingerbread men. Small inward sigh.

Out with Mary Berry and while we are looking at the recipe, he spots mini iced buns which we make. Weigh, tip, crack the egg (favourite bit), measure and mix. Put the mini cake cases in the tin and, using a tiny spoon, fill them – I encourage him to use a clean finger to scrape the mix off the spoon, turning a blind eye to copious licking.

Into the oven and out: not bad considering the sketchy weighing.

Now for another best bit: the washing up.

From this point I was on my own making glacé icing in a random quantity way. He spent the next hour pouring and whisking and scooping just as the books tell you pre -schoolers do. “Tum de Tum … mmm … I am making nice drinks for you and grandad and I need lots more water.”

And one for Tommy.

 He spies his brother’s spouty cup “And one for Cammi.”

This involves a lot of sucking and dribbling out of the juice already in the cup. I ask “What does Mummy think about dribbling and spitting?”

  Quick as a flash he replies, “Mummy isn’t here.”


2 thoughts on “What happens at granny’s, stays at granny’s

  1. Hi VerityThat’s so good and funny. I’ve just had to forward it on.Thank you for sharing it.I’ve been wondering whether you are still planning a trip over in December? I’d really love it if you could, but equally I’ll understand if you say actually it’s not the best time, too busy, too committed or whatever. But I would love to see you.Thanks again – you’ve brightened and lightened what was a slightly sombre evening.Lots of loveSal x


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