Chocolate

Did you know you can eat chocolate straight from the freezer?

I didn’t, until last year, approximately three days after Easter.

I’d frozen the leftover chocolate bunnies and eggs to get them out of my sight then, on a rare craving, and because I don’t have junk food in the house, resorted to raiding the downstairs freezer. It certainly was edible - just slightly colder and crunchier.

So that plan didn’t work.

This year, under no such illusions, I simply hid half the kids’ haul around the house. Such was the volume, that its absence went unnoticed. Therefore, I was mostly hiding it from myself.

There’s no way anyone could eat that much chocolate without it having detrimental effects on their health. As it was, Master Seven lost another tooth over Easter. Luckily the tooth fairy found him on holiday but it was a close call. We’d gone away for a couple of nights and I’d taken the other half of the chocolate with us with the intent of palming most of it off to visitors. Trouble was, they had the same plan so we just ended up playing swapsies.

When the tooth came out and he’d finished making a big song and dance night fell but do you think three excited kids, hyped up from too much chocolate and sleeping in the same room were going to sleep?

Exhausted from all the organising, packing and travel I sat up in bed, gripping $1 in reminder and constantly drifting off, only to abruptly be jolted awake from their peels of laughter.

Finally all was quiet and I performed my duty but was woken before 6am by an excited Master Seven waving $1 in my face.

Then came the demands for their chocolate. “Mum, is it morning tea time yet?” they asked at 8am.

To distract them I got them to take some fish over to the elderly neighbours. But this backfired. Our kindly neighbour promptly returned the favour by producing three M&M-filled eggs from her spare room.

The kids came hurtling home, beaming from ear to ear and with the M&Ms rattling like crazy within their hollow eggs. Who was I to rain on their parade? They gutsed them down but, with the fish practically leaping into the boat all weekend, we had plenty to go round. 

It turns out the neighbour had plenty more M&M-filled Easter eggs stored in her spare room too.

I heard the familiar rattling from the other side of the fence and, this time, intercepted them.

We returned home with more chocolate than we left with and, before I had a chance to hide this latest stash, my willpower left me.

Did you know chocolate expires?

Clearly the neighbour has more self-discipline than me and had been holding onto these in her spare room for a long time. Perhaps I should suggest the freezer option?

Personally, I would forgo the freezer. If I’m going to play my own game of hide and seek next time a random binge strikes I’d rather have the prize at room temperature.

Number Seven

“Right I’ve gotta go,” I said to mum on the phone. “Farmers has just opened and I’ve got an hour and a half to get home, make cupcakes and deliver them up to the school by snack. Then I’ve got to start on the number seven cake,” I added.

“Oh a seven, that should be nice and easy.”

I agreed, before hanging up and racing into the half-price children’s clothing sale to make some purchases for Master Seven’s birthday.

Several hours later, up to my eye balls in icing, I remembered those words and frowned. How had I managed to screw up a number seven cake? I blamed the cook book. You’d think all it would involve was joining two rectangular cakes but apparently I was to cut an angular piece off one of the tops. This was where it all turned pear-shaped … or should I say number one-shaped?

Indeed, it looked like I’d baked my seven-year-old son a cake in the shape of a number one – a distorted one at that. What’s more, after slicing several more pieces off in an attempt at a patch- up job, it now had cracks that resembled the Hora Hora rugby grounds post-drought.

The cupcakes hadn’t fared too well either. After a rush-job I managed to get them to their destination on time but not before they all spilled sideways out their paper cups.

When I turned up to class Master Seven actually looked embarrassed (but that’s another story) until he realised his classmates thought I was cool because I was bearing treats.

“You seem like a nice mum,” said a little girl sidling up to me. Hmmm did she just want something or should I be flattered? I choose the latter.

But back to the cake. Because I only had one loaf tin, I baked two separately. The second was still cooking when it came time to pick the twins up from kindy. After some mulling I turned the oven right down, jumped in the car and, seven minutes and a lot of arm-tugging later, returned to a house still standing and a cake that was just right.

But then came the disastrous part. After a whole bowlful of bright yellow icing, still the cracks were there. I’d run out of icing sugar so there was nothing for it but to load the kids back in the car and head to the supermarket. Nearly another packet of icing sugar later and it was still a big mess. It seemed the icing I poured down the cracks was just oozing back out the bottom of the cake until the whole platter was covered in thick yellow goo.

I had one hour left to fix it, prepare the rest of the party food, blow up balloons and wrap presents before six boisterous boys descended on us.

And then I had a brainwave: “Guys do you want to come and decorate the cake?” I called to the twins.

Smacking their lips, they eagerly climbed up on the bar stools as I handed them a bag of pebbles each.

I got photographic evidence of their handiwork as I envisaged carrying out the brightly-hued mess of a cake before six sets of unimpressed eyes. “Look at what your brother and sister have made for you!” I would declare.

But as it happened I didn’t need to divert the blame. Come five past three I heard the excited voices coming down the drive and, suddenly, our house was filled with bags and presents, chatter and boys. They took off and spent the first hour exploring the house, toys and yard before remembering they were hungry. After devouring a belly-ful of cheezals, burger rings, cheerios, sausage rolls, pizza and biscuits they were off again. We played musical cushions, pass the parcel and pin the nose on the Smurf and then someone remembered the cake. After a quick last-minute touch-up job that managed to disguise any remaining cracks but now with icing about two inches thick, I plonked the (very heavy) cake down on the table. Luckily they were so taken with the Madagascar train I’d stuck on top, that any imperfections went unnoticed.

Besides they were too full for cake and were off again, leaving me to quickly hide the yellow monstrosity back in the fridge before the grandparents arrived for dinner.

“Now how about a piece of the birthday cake to go with supper,” said one as they sat down with cuppas later that night.

“Umm, yeah about that…”

Weddings

The children lined up excitedly to watch their aunty's nuptials.

Wedding banter stepped up a notch between the youngsters last week in the lead up to their aunty’s nuptials.

My kids are obsessed with people being boyfriend and girlfriend and getting married so this was just the icing on the wedding cake.

The wedding was an all-weekend affair at Pakiri Beach. A lovely weekend where food, accommodation and even childrens’ activities were provided – all we had to do was pack clothes! Gotta love a holiday like that.

The morning of the ceremony was an early one. The kids were sharing a room and one bright spark decided to wake the others at 5am to make the decision whether to don their wedding outfits or togs. I got up to find them all standing starkers, blinking in the light and pondering this big decision. They were told to put on their undies and go back to bed. This was when it was discovered I’d forgotten to pack Miss Four’s knickers. By the time I’d searched high and low we were all wide awake and so our day began.

The morning was spent exploring the Matakana markets before heading over to Leigh for some snorkeling. Just as we pulled on our wetsuits it began pelting down. The boys were fine – they frolicked in the sand and shallows undeterred while Miss Four huddled with her head buried in her towel – a few orange tufts of hair all that could be seen sticking out. This made for some power-snorkeling and, realising the kids were just a little too young, we packed up and headed back in time to scrub up for the big event.

The weather came right just in time and the kids waited with eager anticipation – with Miss Four wearing a pair of her brother’s truck undies under her pretty frock - for their aunty – the bride. The day before they’d dressed up their Barbie and Ken dolls in wedding outfits and staged a mock wedding so to see it all unfold in real life was just too much. They sat in a line with their hands held to their mouths stifling giggles but when it came to the kiss, they erupted. 

They were a little distracting and it took a bit to settle them down ready to perform their duties – blowing bubbles at the newlyweds. Miss Four’s role was to sprinkle rose petals, painstakingly gathered in a basket to match her outfit but, at the last minute, decided she was too shy.

After that, the 5am start began to take affect. While the boys got a second or third wind, Miss Four began to wilt. But we still had the 45-min bus ride to the reception – we were only just beginning! Luckily the kid’s menu kept them awake and all the children played outside the restaurant in the playground till well after dark – all that could be seen were their glow sticks bobbing around.

Finally on the bus ride back, the twins fell asleep exhausted while Master Six, hyped up from no sleep, a new friend to show off to and too much fizz, entertained the passengers with stories, interspersed, of course, with toilet humour, which had them in hysterics. Spurred on by the laughter, his stories, which filtered down to me in the front, became more and more ridiculous and, not to mention, embarrassing.

Finally they toppled into bed and, after the giggling subsided, fell into deep sleeps until 7.30am, which is a major sleep-in for us.

Strangely, Barbie and Ken have remained idle and all marriage talk ceased since the real life wedding – I think my three might just be all wedding’d out.