Chocolate Birthday Cake 03

When I told Marie it was her second birthday soon, she said "Then you will sing for me and I will cut a dinosaur cake." Apparently a precedent had been set two summers ago with a dinosaur cake for Jack. She'd seen him cutting his cake in the photos of that party, and concluded that's what happens when it's your birthday. Now Jack's cake was a real, shop-bought British affair (with many thanks to granny - he adored it): This rather laid down the gauntlet. So I decided not to compete and make my normal birthday cake (chocolate spunge, bound with chocolate spread, covered in chocolate icing, decorated with chocolate Smarties - do you see a pattern here?) and then add a cunning cunning thing - voila: He's now hanging god-like over our living room, looking on benignly. Actually, I think he is secretly judging us and disapproving. I call him the Bumba. When someone farts you can just about see the Bumba thinking "That offends me." I have to go now. The Bumba is telling me to stop wasting time online.