That which makes the splendour of the present and the glory of the future remains for ever unforgotten.

I will admit that this Elmo cake that I made for Henry is perhaps not the best or most handsome Elmo cake that has ever graced the Earth, but I made it. I made it despite having had a few consecutive nights without sleep. I made it in the face of the unceasing barrage of wailing from Ezra, the second loudest baby in the world. I made it even though the entire way through making it I had a pushy little toddler demanding more more MORE of something that I wasn’t actually sure of. I made it without proper planning and forethought, which left me perilously close to running out of icing (hence the slightly jaundiced look of Mr Elmo). Yet despite these odds, I still made it on time for the party.


Of course, the point of any birthday cake lies in its predestined destruction. In moments of philosophical crisis, I tend to ask myself questions like is a cake a cake if it is not eaten? I answer myself - ever the conversationalist - "of course it isn’t, it is something altogether different" (a swan?).

But, to the cake, armed with a bloody great big knife (as he usually is in these heady days of armed youths out of control), the little bloke’s nerve was steeled by his mother’s cold words of encouragement: “remember Old Yeller, Henry. You want to be a man like Travis don’t you?” And with that, he plunged the blade right into Elmo’s nose to a murderous cheer from the baying mob!

Afterwards, when given time for reflection, I decided that the Elmo cake was indeed a cake, for there was nary a crumb left.