My eldest turned eight on Thursday. Today is the big family get-together, so I planned to bake a cake. Since she's having a friends party next weekend, I said I would bake this cake for taste, and not bother with coloured frosting or pretty decorations (I'll do that for next weekend). I decided to bake this as a round layer cake. I made it as a loaf a few weeks ago and it was delicious.
I overcooked the cake; I was in a flap this morning and forgot that when it's in two round pans versus a loaf pan, a cake bakes more quickly. It was pretty bad, but I've fixed cakes in the past and they've been fine. This time, the top layer cracked into thirds, but I still would not give up. I made some caramel frosting - okay, a lot - and slathered it on. Just then, my daughter came back from swimming class. Here's your cake, honey!
She cried, like burst into tears. It didn't help that Mr. Name called it a poop cake and started grunting. I felt really bad for a moment and then realized how funny it was and went to Costco for a sheet cake. I really can bake, I promise, but I just get a bit distracted sometimes. I have her birthday party with her friends to make up for it next week. But now she wants a sheet cake with roses then, too. Sigh.