1.Wrongly commit yourself by telling the kids ‘We can bake!’
2. Wind yourself up by scouring Pinterest for a recipe that fits the ingredients you have in the cupboards, whilst the Monsters squeal ‘Are we baking yet!?’ every 3.7 seconds. Hiss ‘FFS’ a lot
3. Curse your shoddy self as you unfold the kids’ aprons to find the crusty cake batter you failed to rinse off last time you shoved them in a bag in your post-kids-baking rage.
4. Bring all of the ingredients to the table with a bowl and a spoon and tell the children to sit nicely. Take a ‘We’re baking!’ photo to send to Granny. So far, so good. You’re such a Fun Mum.
5. Get back up and fetch two of everything because the little twats refuse to share.
6. Allow Monster #1 to tip the flour into the bowl. Watch him tip the flour off the edge of the table. Reweigh flour and do it yourself.
7. Repeat step 6 with the other ingredients, until you learn your sodding lesson and just do it all yourself. Reassure the children that ‘of course you can have a go in just a minute.’
8. Put the fear of God into the children, should they ever touch raw egg.
9. Watch the youngest fucker lick raw egg off the table and conclude he’ll be reet.
10. Think ‘fuck it’ and add whatever bollocks you like in whatever order and quantity, as your hands are too sticky to put the pincode into your phone to check the Pinterest recipe but if you go to wash your hands, the gremlins will see it as an opportunity to eat eggshell/sneeze in the bag of flour/smack each other with wooden spoons.
10. Give up on telling the kids to stop licking the bowl, muttering ‘If you end up in hospital, I’ll be cross.’
11. Realise you’ve not preheated the oven and cry inside.
12. Throw flour on the floor, smear butter on the fridge door, sprinkle sugar in the big one’s hair and pour raisins into the littlest’s nappy. It’s gonna end up like that anyway, you may as well take charge of it.
13. Try to decide whether what you’ve ended up with is cake/biscuits/lasagne/edible. Put it in the lukewarm oven, crank it up to the highest heat and hope for the best.
14. Screech ‘DON’T MOVE, DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING, JUST FRRREEEEEZE’ and run around trying to find babywipes before the walls become covered in whatever congealed crap you’ve managed to produce. Use an entire pack of baby wipes cleaning the Monsters, the table, yourself and the cat. Shove the unwashed aprons back in the pissing bag.
15. Realise you need a fucking cup of coffee and to never bake or be around the children ever again. Wrestle the Monsters upstairs for an unreasonably early/unnecessary nap, agreed only on the promise that they can eat one million cakes/biscuits/lasagnes when they wake.
16. Come downstairs to the smell of burning and take this out of the oven:
17. Growl FFS, pour some rum in your coffee and vow never to bake again.