...or at least he might as well. "Batman buns" is the answer I got when I asked what Number Two would like for his birthday breakfast. It is my own fault for asking. I suppose I should have phrased the question better, "If you could choose something from our usual breakfast portfolio for breakfast on your birthday, what would it be?".
The thing is, he so rarely asks for anything that I hate to disappoint him. He must have picked up on my anything-to-please-the-middle-child vibes because once he knew he was getting something special he went into incredible detail. The buns should have white chocolate flavour. No wait, they should be brownies in the shape of muffins. But white not brown. No, actually they should be stripy and have layers of dark brown and white. The icing should be brown with a black bat. Can you make yellow icing Mammy? I want yellow icing with a black bat.
So here I am on another terribly humid evening trying to make something resembling the Batman logo out of fondant icing that is melting before my eyes. I'm trying to ignore that I have to make 12 of these bats, one for each of the dozen fairy cakes cakes that are in the oven at the moment. The white chocolate was as soft as the fondant as I tried to cut it into chunks (he specified chunks rather than just white chocolate flavour at some stage earlier today).
But this is what you do, isn't it? Never mind that I should be packing for the holidays and organising a thank you card and present for Number One's teacher. [Tomorrow is the last day of his first year at school]. Never mind that I am going out for a drink tonight for the first time this year and would like to shower beforehand. Never mind the heat or the fact that someone is calling to test drive our old car in half an hour. My middle child birthday boy wants Batman buns and that is more important.