Sorry to all of you who were expecting The Holiday – Part Two as my next post.
It is coming, I promise. But meanwhile, I am being a little distracted by the impending birthday of a nearly four year old. Who is making requests that could rival Paris Hilton.
So far this week, Beaver has asked me for a bra. And a wedding dress. Both with Tinkerbell on. Forget the fact that I didn’t even know she was dating, where the **** am I supposed to get a Tinkerbell bra and wedding dress?
That’s actually the least of my worries. She has also reminded me that she wants an E.T. cake for her birthday. And not just any E.T. cake but ‘one with the bony finger.’ She’s consistent, I’ll give her that. She first mentioned she wanted one shortly after last year’s Nemo cake. I’ve made a mental note to only let Beaver watch contemporary films from hereonin lest she asks me for a Labyrinth cake next year.
So this is why at 10.30 PM I am googling E.T. cakes. They don’t exist. Not the ready-made variety anyway. Neither do E.T. cake decorations, stickers or any sort of ‘cheating’ merchandise. No, they remain firmly back in 1982, which is where I am wishing I was right now. A jolly five year old without these awesome responsibilities. I’m sure my birthday cakes were simple things like hedgehogs and caterpillars.
Somewhat reassuringly, it would appear that I am not the first to have been asked for an E.T. cake. Many before me have tried (and failed). The gallery is impressive if not downright gruesome. I feel a bit sick just looking at them. This one is a particular favourite.
But I will not let her down. Obviously. So I am sitting here finding ways to fashion my own version. So far I have bought various colours of icing, glitter and baubles. I have found out what colour the moon actually is. Annoyingly, it seems to be a sort of marbled colour but on this occasion it will just have to be white. Because noone has yet invented marbled moon icing.
I reckon I can do a silhouette of Elliot and the bike but I have no idea how I am going to make E.T.’s finger glow. I’m sure she will be expecting it.
There is another alternative. In my travels, I’ve come across some Tinkerbell cake decorations. And I’m wondering if I could get out of the whole thing on a technicality. ‘Oh, Beaver, I thought you said you wanted a Tinkerbell cake.’
But then that means I’ve got to find a bra and a wedding dress with E.T. on.
Although in the scheme of things, that might actually be easier.