Potty Mouth

Just as a monkey left at a typewriter long enough will bash out the complete works of Shakespeare, so the Boy – admittedly only about half as intelligent as your average monkey – will occasionally string together all of his random questions to form a coherent conversation.

Our House, Friday Morning.  The doorbell rings.

Boy:  Whatsat noise?

Me:     Sounds like the door bell.  Shall we go see...

Boy has galloped off through the hall, slowing down only to pick up a shoe, which he is now banging against the front door.

B:       WHO-ARE-YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-WHAT-DO-YOU-WAAAAAAAAAAAANT

Me:     (Opening door just wide enough to take a parcel from the disturbed-looking postman, and shutting it quickly before the Boy can escape)  Thank you, sorry about that..

B:       (Banging me with the shoe): WHATISITWHATISITWHATISITWHATISIT

Me:     Oooh, it’s a parcel,  I think it’s a present for someone special...

B:       ME! Me ‘pecial, MEMEMEME!

Me:     Yes you certainly are. 

We sit on the kitchen floor  with the Girl, the ants, and a regurgitated sliced pan, and open the parcel. 

Boy:   (Deeply suspicious)  Whatsat?

Me:     It’s a.... POTTY!

Boy:   (Still suspicious, and again banging me with the shoe) Whatzit for?

Me:     (Forced joviality, despite pain in head and leg) It’s a special toilet for big boys!

Boy:   Whatyoutalking’bout?

Me:     You do your wee-wees and poos in the potty! 

Boy:   (Silence.  Although the look in his eye says:  NotFuckingLikely)

Me:     Like a big boy! Hurrah! 

Boy:   NO! 

And disappears under the table, where the ensuing grunts and audible concentration suggest a dirty protest. He then emerges, victorious.  And smelly.

Me:     The next time, if you do your poo in the potty you’ll get a treat...

Boy:   (Suddenly perky) Treat?

Me:     Oh yes.  A little treat for a wee-wee and a big treat for a poo (Because as we all know, there’s treat hierarchy when it comes to body effluents.)

Boy:   (Very interested) What treat?

Me:     Do a wee-wee or a poo in the potty and you’ll find out.

There’s an urgent tugging at clothing and shaking of (a very laiden down) nappy, the removal of which I – carefully - participate in, and suddenly he’s butt naked (literally) and sitting on the potty.  Days pass.  Nothing (well, nothing solid) happens.  He stands up.  

Boy:  Treat!

Me:     (Tentatively looking into the potty)  But there’s nothing there..

Boy:   TREEEEEEEEEEEEAT!

Me:     I told you, you have to do a wee or a poo for your treat.

Boy:   (Looks confused.  Then pensive. Then his eyes light up as a thought suddenly hits him)  But I did a fart...

He got the treat.  In this house the power of persuasion is as important as the ability to pee and poo in a toilet.

Moving away from this topic entirely, let’s talk about cakes (although in my experience, there’s nothing like a slice of cake to get the Boy scuttling under the table).  It was the Man’s birthday last week, and we celebrated with a very very convoluted homemade cake.  It looked fantastic on the cover of the Sainsbury’s Magazine;  not so fantastic as it collapsed all over our counter.  Plus it took forever. (Almost as long as it’s taking for the Boy to get the hang of the whole potty thing.)  It involved lots of homemade fiddly steps, and while I love the Man, there’s a limit to that love.  And that limit is, I discovered,  homemade custard filling.  So the next day, just to annoy myself, I made a pavlova, which took about 15 mins work – if you can describe holding an electric beater as work – and tasted alot nicer.  (Lumpy custard just isn’t pleasant). 

I know I know that pavlova / meringue is very very dull, but wait!  As well as a meringue cake, you can branch off and make Eton Mess...  Isn’t there something happening at the end of next week that demands marking with a smashed-together meringue-strawberry-cream mixture?  Yes indeed (and you all thought I was ignoring it...*).  However, if you are making Eton Mess, skip the whole meringue-making step and go buy ready-made meringues.  Seriously.   Otherwise, read on. 

Pavlova

You need (for 6, generously):

• 4 egg whites
• 8oz / 200g of castor sugar
• A teaspoon of cornflour
• A couple of drops of malt- or white wine-vinegar
• 300ml Carton of Double / whipping cream
• Soft fruit for the top – strawberries, kiwis, bananas – whatever.

You also need an electric mixer / food processor, or biceps of pure steel.

(Some quick meringue tips here:

• For each egg white, you need about 2 oz / 50 g of castor sugar.  4 egg whites will give you a fairly big pavlova – about 8-10 slices. 
• You don’t actually need all the other ingredients, but accepted culinary wisdom (ie, my mother) has it that it results in a chewier interior;
• Everything that touches the egg whites needs to be spotlessly clean. 
• If you’re unsure about your egg-separating abilities, separate them individually into a small dish first before tipping them into the big bowl.  (This means that if some pesky egg yolk escapes, it won’t ruin all the egg whites, you won’t have cause to swear loudly, and then won’t have to spend the rest of the day saying “frog it” very deliberately when your toddler is around, in the vain hope of erasing the Actual Word from his teeny brain.) )

Preheat oven to Gas 2 / 300F / 150C

Separate eggs.  This is the trickiest bit about making the cake.

Beat the hell out of them for a few minutes.  When you can turn the bowl upside down without them moving, then you’re ready to start adding the sugar.

Keep beating until all the sugar is gone, then for an additional half minute or so. 

If you’re using the Chewy Interior ingredients, add them now. 

More beating.  (Isn’t this fun?) 

When it’s white and glossy, spoon the mixture out onto a baking tray lined with baking parchment.  Get as creative – or not – as you like with the shape, but make a lip around the edge;  you’re making a shell, into which the whipped cream and fruit will go.

Stick in the oven and reduce the heat to Gas 1 / 175F / 140C.  Leave to do its stuff for an hour, then leave to cool (either in the oven, or not) for at least 2 hours. (If leaving in the oven, it'll obviously take alot longer - overnight is good.)

While your children are fighting over the RAW EGG-covered bowl and whisk, beat the cream, prepare the fruit (chop, sugar, lime zest, etc), and have a nap. (Or not).   

Within an hour of intending to eat, assemble as follows:  Cake shell, then cream then fruit. 

Stand back and take a bow, and snigger in amazement that anyone would ever think of making anything more complicated.

For Eton Mess:

Take a mallet to your beautiful creation – OR smash up some ready-mades – and mix half with the whipped cream.  Add the zest of a lime, a handful (per person) of chopped strawberries and stir through.  Just before eating, add the rest of the broken meringue. 

*On the contrary - I recently Googled “Kate Middleton Pictures”.  I wouldn’t suggest this if you’re easily shocked.  Or are a stickler for details - I suspect that those boobs do NOT belong to Katie.