Wriggly-man's adventures in Cake

My little wriggly-man loves a bit of cake.  I baked him a carrot cake for his first birthday.  He was unsure how to tackle it, even though the sweet taste had him interested.   Now, almost a year on, 'cake' is a favourite word and a catalyst for either happy giggles or violent tantrums.  Emotions run high in terms of cake.  

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.