The big fancy birthday cakes which some kids get to enjoy on their birthdays are utterly fascinating.
I don’t know if they taste good, but they sure look great.
Just once, I thought, the girls had to have one.
It would be their dream cake in every way, a manifestation of their fantasies in 3D.
It would be the highlight of the family female birthday party this year.
The mushroom house which Lu so loves to draw, the two little girls standing outside, one in red (Jo) and one in blue (Lu).
It so happened that a friend had also started a home business making these labours of love.
The stars were aligned. The mushroom fantasy took shape.
The day we collected it, the girls saw it for the first time as I carted it into the car, arms spread around a mega cake box housing what felt like a couple of kilos of cake.
Actually, two cakes. A vanilla cake roof and a chocolate cake house.
They saw the two little girls togged in their favourite colours and Jo, all agog, whispered: But how did she (the cake maker) know?
Now I know the incredible power of fondant.
We cut it at the hotel which KK insists we check into despite my protests of excessive expenditure, by way of celebration.
It’s the same one I checked him into for his magnificent failure of a birthday do last year but he says he really liked the hotel and adds: Wrong timing last year lah.
The kids can’t stop grazing on the bright green grass.
But post-party, we manage only to make a small dent in the huge cake.
This cake needs a big party.