Anyway, being one quarter Welsh, I decided the girls and I should mark St David's Day in some way. I have no daffs in the garden to sniff, no leeks in the fridge to chomp on, and the dragons never leave Wales as I understand, so there are none in these parts to hug.
So we made, for the very first time, our own Welsh cakes.
I say 'made', I mean 'chucked ingredients around the kitchen for an hour before scraping off various surfaces into a bowl'. And when I say 'Welsh' I mean 'a tiny bit Chinese' as mixed spice and Chinese all spice come in almost identical boxes.
Anyway, as is always the case when baking with toddlers, it was enormous fun. I'm not sure what Grandma would have made of the presentation. They were supposed to look like this but actually looked like this…
… which is in no small part due to the fact that Ava wanted her Welsh cakes to be Father Christmas shaped. His head kept falling off.
Having got the babies all jazzed up on sugary Welsh cakes, I thought I might get a head start on a savoury and veg-laden dinner – which was going to be wiggly worms (or spag bol). And that, rather than the Welsh cakes, is pretty much the reason I am writing this actually.
The mince was frozen and needed defrosting – but what with the girls breaking over the fence into next door's garden, Ruby treading in cat poo and them both demanding snacks and games off top shelves, I've completely lost it.
I don't mean lost my head, I mean I've lost the frozen mince. I don't know where it is. I've looked everywhere I can think of. The girls think they're getting wiggly worms at 5pm. If I haven't found it by then, I'll be pouring wine and giving them a stack of Welsh-fusion.
Has anyone got any ideas? Seriously.
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