Vincent turned three on Saturday, so I baked him a cake. From scratch. You’ll note I have not posted a picture of said cake. Oh, it tasted quite wonderful, actually, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and Vincent adored it. Which was a big relief, because it looked like crap. I wish I was joking.
Because I find it mildly embarrassing how truly awful that cake looked, and because such things feel like a challenge from the universe (“En garde!”), I have resolved to bake another cake today. My sister, whose birthday was also this weekend, is arriving with my mum for a visit some time this morning, so another birthday cake seems in order.
This has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the first cake is completely gone.
