This morning, he woke early, settling into a snuggle with me and a drink of milk as he woke up. Suddenly rejuvenated, he sprung up and clomped off towards the kitchen. He cast a look back at me over his shoulder and said, 'Cake.' He nodded his head in agreement with his own brilliant suggestion. Unfortunately, there was no cake to be had and I decided that the day might be off to a better start with some eggs. He didn't agree and cried, but we compromised with a hug.
He loves cake so much that it turns him from a lovely sweet boy into a monster. When he goes to nursery, we are always told how good he is, except when cake is at stake. We were informed that he threw a massive, inconsolable fit the other day when he spotted a trolley with cake but had to finish lunch first. I would have hidden it from sight, and have even taken to spelling out the letters of the word rather than saying it and risk a tantrum. I guess learning to see cake and hear about cake without eating cake is a valuable life lesson.
So I am attempting to balance the tendencies of my mini cake fiend with some good nutrition and restraint. But I do love his little glee-ful face when he's munching into a piece of cake. Crumbs tumbling down his drool-drenched chin, exclaiming, 'Nice!' as he crams it in. So I've come in from work and knocked up a carrot cake at quarter to ten tonight. I guess its because I love him as much as he loves cake. Probably more.