September 2025

Picture credit: www.argos.co.uk

Mum’s banging on about giving up chocolate for Lent – like that’s a big deal! We could give up way better things than that. Like spraying her hand when we’re weeing al fresco! The list is endless!

Things We Could Give Up For Lent

Pretending not to hear a thing mummy says. Especially when she’s doing that weird counting out loud thing. You know, “ONE…TWO…THREEEEE!”

Remembering everything mummy says and throwing it back at her. E.g. You said if I turned off the TV this morning I could have the IPad and a whole packet of Chocolate Fingers and five gold stars after school. And Pombears.

Loo-bombing: urgently needing the loo at the beginning of every meal / middle of any journey or supermarket / end of mum’s tether, despite having been asked repeatedly if we needed it.

Crying when given food. Even though it’s the exact same thing that yesterday we cried about because there wasn’t enough for seconds.

Crying when not given food. Asking for a snack is like breathing for us.

Throwing our food, complete with plate, on the floor to signify the end of a meal.

All shouting at mummy at the same time, all the time.

Screaming if the TV is obstructed. Ducking and diving around whatever hapless body part of mummy’s is spoiling our viewing pleasure for one microsecond, even if it’s to hand us the snacks we’ve been baying for.

Wading in mud at all opportunities. Especially on the way IN to school.

Taking 20 minutes to get from car to chemist, a distance that would take mummy on her own 60 seconds to cover.

Grabbing poo-ey nappies mid-change and trying to brandish them around our head. Mummy’s reflexes aren’t what they were.

Mishearing mummy. When she says, ‘It’s time for school”, she’s clearly saying, “It’s time to take your trousers off, turn the TV back on, and get all the Lego out.”

Mistreating mummy’s person. Whacking her on the nose with a flat palm, elbowing her in the boob, flicking her with a stuffed snake, punching her on the bottom…

Mixing up all the toy boxes after Mummy’s Big Sort-Out. The one that took a whole week and made her flushed with an inner pride. We don’t care if we can’t find a toy easily – we just tip them all out and swoosh them round every floor in the house.

Coming back downstairs after we’ve had bedtime stories, cuddles, tickles, songs, hair-stroking and kisses, and frightening mummy into spilling the wine she’s pouring.

The night-waking tag team. If it’s not one of us, it’s another. Sometimes it’s all of us, all at separate times.

You Love Us Just As We Are

We could give any of these things up in a flash – but we won’t. Cos we’re kids! Besides, what would our parents do with themselves all day?

Where is he? Has he gone in OK?

Get out of the way, you other child! I’m trying to get my last glimpse before he goes into school!

Is that him crying? That’s definitely him crying. Or…? Actually, I don’t think it was him. Oh no, it wasn’t.

Oh no, I didn’t give him any tissues.

Can I go in?

I don’t want the teacher to think I’m a fusser…

OK, he’s gone.

That’s it. It’s really happened.

I’m free!

My baby! Why didn’t I bring any tissues? I need one.

Maybe I could ask that other mum?

She looks scary though. I don’t really feel like chatting with my mascara all over my face.

Oh, this wind is freezing. I didn’t put him in a vest.

I’m such a bad mum.

He’s going to be shivering and hate school and never learn to read now.

I should have taught him to read.

Quite fancy a coffee though.

Ooh, a coffee alone.

I’m sure he won’t even notice I’m gone, he’ll be having such fun.

I miss him!

I could pop into that shop too. Hope they’ve still got that top I wanted to try on.

And I could go to IKEA.

And maybe start a Masters?

They will ask him if he needs the loo, won’t they?

What if he wets himself and everyone laughs at him?

I’m going to ring the school office.

Or wait, I could go home and get his vest and some spare pants and then talk to them in person.

What if they tell me off though?

Six hours to go.

What if he doesn’t eat any lunch?

I should have given him more breakfast.

My baaaaby!

Maybe I could take him in a snack.

Mmm, I could have lunch out!

I’m free!

I’ve got five and three quarter hours till I need to leave to pick him up again.

I’ll start my novel. And redecorate the house.

After coffee.

My phone’s almost dead, what if they’re trying to call me? He might have cracked his head open! He could have been stung by a bee! Or bitten by a runaway rhinoceros!

I’m such a bad mum, I’m such a bad mum.

I should have home schooled him.

I’ll just go home and charge it for a bit.

Then I’ll go and get a coffee.

I need it.

I’m free!

He’s all grown up.

This is the beginning of the end of his childhood.

He’ll be doing his A-Levels and then he’ll be gone.

Married.

It’s the end of cheap flights.

I wasn’t enough for him, though. He needs the stimulation of his peers.

Mmm, coffee.

Was I supposed to bring that form in today?

Agh, I didn’t order the school sunhat.

I just can’t do all this!

It’s too much!

It’s free childcare though, mind.

His teacher seemed nice. She really did.

Didn’t she?

She wouldn’t be mean to him.

He’s only four.

My baaaaby!

I think I’ll have a bit of caramel shortbread with my latte. I’m in shock.

I need it.

It’s my first day too.

Picture credit: M&S

Mind-numbing, irritating, intermittent bursts of hope and ultimate joy – sometimes parenting is a bit like being on hold.

The Seven Stages Of Being On Hold / Having Children

1. Taking the plunge. You’ve been putting it off for a while. Make that call and commit yourself to it.
2. Initial shock. No one is there. No one is helping. You’re on your own, just you and your phone.
3. Irritating soundtrack. You’re inescapably subjected to someone else’s taste. Noise invades your ears, but you can’t put it down for fear of missing something.
4. Attrition. That sound becomes normal. You begin to barely notice it. Actually, you quite like it. You want to hear more of it. Where has it been all your life?
5. Burst of hope. The sounds stops. Someone picks up. This state of suspended animation may not, in fact, go on forever, as you were beginning to feel it would, mesmerized as you are in your cocoon of sound.
6. Dashing of hope. It was an automated message. The mind-numbing wait continues. But it’s OK. You get to hear that song again…
7. Ultimate joy. You got through!

Of course, having children is not like being on hold. Not always. Most of the times I’ve been on hold, there has been no ultimate joy. I’ve got through only to be told I have to phone another number. And hold again…

Oh yes, and kids are way more cuddly than call centres.

View image | gettyimages.com  Where are you when I need you, Mary Poppins?

I don’t need a hero. I don’t even need a full-time nanny (though sometimes I think that would be nice). I don’t need a three-day nanny, either. I just need a ten-minute nanny.

Home time. I let the older two out and they run to the front door, baying for me to open it right NOW! I open the door for them, go back for the toddler, who has by now twisted himself almost out of his straps. I release him into the hall and take a deep breath. The clock starts…now!

• Go back to car, bring in the book bags, PE bags, violin, changing bag, my handbag, my overflow handbag, two bags of shopping, all the coats, hats and gloves plus one leaking smoothie carton, an ancient baby bottle that’s rolled out from under the seat, a split packet of rice cakes, the biscuit barrel that seems to come with us everywhere, the baby’s blanket, the middlie’s comfort toy that I wouldn’t let him take into school and kept in the car to keep his seat warm for him for after school and a Tupperware of toast crusts from this morning’s breakfast sitting round the table having a wholesome family conversation. Minimum two trips (I have big hands and stubbornness).
• Shut car doors – Heaven forfend that my children should shut a door after themselves.
• Go back in house for key and lock car.

Meanwhile, I am also expected to:

• Take everyone’s shoes off. Yes, they do it in PE. No, they can’t do it at home.
• Put the tea on
• Take the toddler to the loo
• Take the other two to the loo, because they like a luxury wipe when at home.
• Turn the TV on.
• Find the right Kate and Mim-Mim.
• No, not THAT one, mummy!
• Give them all apple juice.
• Find the Lego light sabre that went under the sofa in a scuffle that morning.
• Break up the current scuffle
• Give them all a biscuit.
• Give them all a cut-up apple.
• Give the baby some milk.
• Catch a toddler toppling off the arm of the sofa
• Reprimand the boy who pushed him
• Reassure the boy that this doesn’t mean I want him to go away forever
• Ask the other boy to stop complaining about the crying noise
• Is tea ready?
• Can you open the back door?
• Can you dry the trampoline? (With what, darling, my actual hair?)

Meanwhile…

I am absolutely, pelvic-floor crunchingly, eye-wateringly DESPERATE for the loo.

All I want is someone to do all that other stuff. While I have a wee. I don’t care if I’m alone in the loo or not, I just want an extra pair of hands. Just for ten minutes.

When’s your crunch time? When do you need a ten-minute nanny?

Picture credit: alexilondon.com

A subtle yet striking way to play the asymmetric earring trend, by ALEXI London. Entry form below! You don’t buy any jewellery for months and then two come along at once – as I found when I was gifted two beautiful pairs of earrings by ALEXI London, from their ‘Hug and Kiss’ range. This lovely concept plays on the mismatched earring trend (as seen on Darcey Bussell in the Strictly semi-final, among others), with a mini hollow circle (the hug) of fine sterling silver, gold or rose gold, paired with a delicate cross (the kiss). Both are adorned with a touch of sparkle to make you stand out in the crowd.

I’m delighted to offer the chance to win a pair of these earrings – a lovely treat for your mum, with Mother’s Day coming up – or for yourself, of course! See entry form and Terms and Conditions at the end of this review.

The lucky winner can choose which combination they’d like to receive: two studs or two threaders or one of each; two hugs, two kisses, or one of each, in rose gold or sterling silver.

As a mum of three young boys, I’d got out of the habit of wearing earrings, having been tugged by the earlobe one too many times by a curious baby. But now my youngest is three, I am finally venturing into wearing jewellery every day, and I love how it completely transforms an outfit. I wear my hug and kiss studs every day, and they are perfect for softening up my habitual slightly preppy look (I love a white shirt) – and for prettying up my gym kit!

If you have more than one piercing, you could try this look – go on, be a rebel!

The drop earrings, or threaders, are lovely for a day-to-evening look: I wore mine to the recent wedding of one of my oldest friends – the perfect place to showcase my new asymmetric beauties. I chose the “hug” or open hoop pair – two sparkly circles to reflect the spirit of the occasion: the eternal love pledged by the exchange of wedding rings (weep!).

Me “modelling” the rose gold Hug Threader and Stud; and the sterling silver version

After nine years of changing body shape with three pregnancies , like many women, buying clothes is not always a pleasure. But jewellery always makes me feel special, whether I can do up my jeans or not. Thank you to ALEXI London for reintroducing me to an old love and helping me feel a little bit special every day.

Enter now for a chance to win a pair of your choice from the sets above – good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Terms and Conditions: Competition closes at 12.00am (midnight) GMT on Thursday 25th February 2016. Entries received after this time and date will not be valid. UK residents only. Entrants must be 18 and over. Winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter after the closing date and will be notified within 5 days of competition end. Only entrants received via the Rafflecopter widget will be considered valid. The prize is one pair of ALEXI London earrings, in your choice of combination, as outlined above – no cash alternatives to the stated prize will be offered. Threader RRP £40, studs £30.

Find more competitions at The Prizefinder!

Kids do judge a book by its cover – so this lovely bookcase is the perfect choice.

My children tend to find reading material by emptying all their books on the floor – or, worse, not bothering at all. So I was delighted when Tidy Books offered me the chance to review their forward-facing children’s bookcase.

Children are obviously interested in books long before they can read, so seeing the covers is more important to them than a row of spines. Even when they can read, it’s easier for them to find a book at a glance if they are facing out. As Tidy Books says:

Children do judge a book by its cover!

We’ve got loads of books in ours and it’s not full to capacity – it can hold up to 85 books. As you can see, the bookcase is deep enough to fit a few books but not so bulky that the titles at the back get lost, thus defeating the object. With different size shelves, it’s great for all our out-size books and the ledges at the front stop the small ones falling out.

It’s lovely to keep all my son’s favourites on display so he can find one for me to read to him. He’s only just three but he can still reach all the shelves. Children being simple creatures – like most of us! – they say what they see, so it’s easy to introduce new books – I just pop them on the shelf and let him feel like he’s the one making the discovery.

It’s also a nice display area to collect together books of a certain type, or season. I got very excited hunting down all our Christmas books to show off for the boys in our new bookcase. Many are very special to me, the actual ones from my own childhood all those hundreds of years ago, (as my children seem to think!).

The bookcase is very simple to put together. It comes with safety fixings to attach it to the wall, so you don’t have to worry about it toppling over. Available in a number of different colour ways (blue, pink, white and natural wood with a choice of upper and lower case letters), it would suit any child’s bedroom or playroom. I liked how its slim shape means it provides a lot of storage without taking up too much room.

The bookcase makes a lovely Christmas present for a child – and his parents will also appreciate it, as it’s practical as well as great for inspiring a love of books and reading. The bookcases are also produced in a way that is friendly to the environment, made out of wood from sustainable sources and finished with eco-friendly water lacquer (meaning low VOCs). You can even buy a personalised bookcase to make your gift extra special!

Source: www.tidy-books.com

Putting books at the heart of my son’s room has certainly increased his independent interest in them – which is a gift that will last a lifetime.

Leggings – the unsung wardrobe hero. A pregnancy staple, saviour of the post-natal woman, and style sidekick before and beyond the baby years too. How do you wear yours?

With the changeable British summer weather, I’m caught between jeans and my summer dresses: it feels like admitting defeat to the elements to wear jeans, but it’s way too cold for a floaty dress. Enter the legging.

Leggings make minis wearable, tunics modest, and dresses warm enough. But there are leggings and leggings. My maternity ones are now finally too big, and I was left with a very old pair that had gone a bit baggy. So I was pleased to receive a pair of Pertz black leggings to liberate my wardrobe.

When I tried them on, I felt lighter than air, almost like they were lifting me up! I’d expected them to feel restrictive but they don’t at all. They are very comfortable and supportive, thanks to their sports-quality fabric.

I live in my skinny jeans, but it is always nice to rediscover some different looks – facilitated by legging – especially as the weather gets warmer (even if it’s still raining!).

What I Liked

– Flattering look. I think Pertz made my legs look and feel thinner and longer.

– Ideal for travel. With the flighty English weather, you can often get caught out in a dress. I took my Pertz with me on a recent day out and put them on when the day turned a bit chilly. They rolled up small enough to get in my small handbag. I plan to take them next time I go on a plane, and they would be great for a festival too.

– Comfortable.

– Easy care. They are machine washable and dry super quickly – in 15 minutes – another reason they are great for  travelling.

Other comments

– It takes a brave woman to wear leggings without a top that covers your bottom. In fact, there’s a whole meme about it: #leggingsarenotpants. So, as with any legging, you wouldn’t wear your Pertz without bottom coverage, because by their very close-fitting nature, VPLs are inevitable.

– Pertz have a sheen finish, but it is subtle and, for me, enhances the blackness and, therefore, flattering nature of them.

– The “hold-you-in” top section (an extra layer over the stomach area) is not really for public consumption, but as noted, you would cover this with a long top, tunic or dress anyway.

– Pertz don’t have the elasticated waistband you usually get on leggings, which takes a little getting used to, but actually means you don’t get the potential “bulge” over the top of a waistband that digs in.

What about you? Could your wardrobe live without leggings?

Disclosure: I was kindly sent a pair of Pertz for review purposes. All photos, words and opinions my own.

With parenting, does one size fit all? 

“Put your shoes on! Clean your teeth! Hold my hand! Watch Numtums! Give me the square root of 169!”

Such are the commands that spill from my mouth daily in swift succession, aimed collectively at my sons, ranging in age from 3 to 8. But none of them is capable of doing or inclined to do all of these things. The poor lambs receive my barrage of instructions with a mixture of indignation and bemusement. Numtums is “babyish” to the oldest, while the youngest will hold my hand all day but he can’t put his shoes on yet.

Ever since one baby became two, they as a pair became “the children”. “The boys”. “The kids.” Insidiously, we had ourselves an Us v Them situation.

Then number three came along and they were a full-on gang. As soon as he could run around and speak / yell, he served to swell the number of Them. Luckily, they all get along really well – almost too well, to the exclusion of their dear parents.

What’s the collective noun for children? I’m sure we can think of a few at tense times – but for mine, I think a “rumpus” is pretty apt.

So this rumpus of children roams the house like a merry pack, flowing like water into every naughty cupboard and pocket of tidiness we possess. I mostly feel as though I’m standing like a big fun-spoiling rock in the middle of them, calling out commands in the hope that one will take.

It came home to me the other day when I told my youngest to finish his book by himself as I had to go and read to the next brother.

“But I can’t read!” he said, his voice wobbling with dismay and disbelief.

The poor angel. In my defence, he had already had a number of stories, but the point is – I am totally guilty of expecting too much of him, because he has older brothers.

“Don’t shout at me!” he wailed in surprise the other day, when I turned onto him the “strong voice” I can’t help but use with his oldest brother sometimes. I felt terrible.

One maternal voice obviously doesn’t fit all. But in the frantic whirl of everyday family life where people have to be got out the door or into bed, it’s not so easy to modulate your voice as you should. Ideally, I wouldn’t shout at anyone, obviously, but snapping at the oldest boy because the littlest has just taken his socks and shoes off AGAIN is clearly unfair but hard not to do in the heat of the moment.

People always say that they grow up quicker, subsequent children – and it’s true, I suppose, but not something I especially want to condone. But I do so every day. Yes, he probably should practice putting his own shoes on but I shouldn’t expect him to do up his own buttons or count reliably past 10. Neither should I expect him to finish a plate of food the same size as his big brother’s, but I just give them all the same on auto-pilot.

The reverse is true, too. My oldest son is 8 and a half, and bats me away if I try and hold his hand across the road. When I say, in excited tones, “We’re going to the park!”, he groans. With a shock, I realise that he is getting bored of our park (not all playgrounds, but our local one, which he’s been to a million times, and is not really challenging for him any more) – just as his littlest brother is finding the physical strength and agility to really enjoy every bit of equipment.

And then there’s my middle child, who can probably more or less perform all I ask of them as a group, but would probably appreciate me being a bit more focused in my delivery. He copies his big brother in so many ways, claiming as boring or babyish things that I know he’d lap up if he were just him, while he envies his little brother for being the babied one of the house.

We went to the movies at the weekend – I took the 3-year old to Zootropolis (good but right over his head) while down the popcorn-strewn corridor, our oldest two were with their dad, watching The Jungle Book (“it was EPIC!”). The ‘Them and Us’ is shifting to the older two plus parent vs the youngest plus parent. It makes me think that treating them all the same at least kept us all together. Simple, if not effective.

It’s not just their age either – everyone is unique and all that, and their mums should treat them that way, not just how they treat their big brother or younger sibling. I don’t know if it’s just me who finds their children collectively to be like a wall of water into which my words fall as effectively as drops in an ocean, but I need to start picking them off with individually-tailored words and actions, like some kind of love sniper.

Obviously, they all receive equal helpings of big squashy cuddles whenever I can get my hands on them (and when they’re not back-chatting), and they will do until they are 102.

I’ll always be fair, and they will always be equal, But I’d like to stop treating them the same.

Find more family-related humour on my Facebook page, Wry Mummy.

I was never a competitive mother – until I won. Ahem, I mean, my son won. The triumph came as a complete surprise – and so did my reaction.  There I was, tootling along, perfectly sincere in my contention that, “I don’t care how he does at school, as long as he’s happy”. But then, my son’s name was called out, and everything changed. He had won first prize in the Easter Bonnet Parade. And I had morphed into a Tiger Mom.

Anatomy of a Tiger Mother I’ll never forget that moment. All those days we had spent creating the prize-winning (see, I can’t stop going on about it) bonnet, all those trial-and-errors we had undertaken in my first craft project since my own primary school days, had come together in this one glorious finale. The teacher announced my son’s victory, and I – to my eternal shame – jumped up, punched both fists in the air and hissed “Yessss!”. If you’re going to be a tiger mom, at least keep a muzzle on it in public. As I clapped my hands off, I went into a reverie. From here, anything was possible! I could propel him into a jazz saxophone world tour at nine! University at eleven! Olympic champion decathlete in 2024! For the last week, I’ve been fizzing with ambition for my son’s future. Perhaps you find it strange that I wouldn’t have harboured such feelings before, but the truth is, he’s SIX! I’m absolutely sure he’s capable of great things, but he’s just mastering his handwriting right now. Occasionally I have a Tiger Woods moment, and kick myself for not having already thrown him into a sporting discipline that would pay for my retirement, but in general, I’m just happy he’s gone to school in clean pants. Which is more a victory for me than for him, to be fair. It’s no surprise that the competitive mum in me has been unleashed, though. For, as all my family and friends will shudderingly confirm, I used to be a very competitive person. In everything. But I stick by my version that the only person I was really competitive with was myself – which explains why I am not in the least competitive about my children. I was so lost in wonder and happiness when expecting my first (he of Easter bonnet fame), that I didn’t even countenance getting involved in all the competitive pregnancy nonsense that I’ve observed. And when my baby came, I felt like I’d already won every competition. I had given birth to the most perfect baby in the universe. When Tiger Mothers Go Cuddly

Once Easter is over, the bonnet lies crumpled in a corner denuded of its mini chocolate eggs,and the after-glow of triumph has faded, I’m sure my inner competitive mother will go back to its deep tiger-nap. But I don’t think it’s all bad that she was awoken. Delusions of Harvard are clearly bonkers, but I’ve realised that I could, and should, aspire to help my children reach that little bit further. I will generally be cuddly and playful, but show a ruthless streak when necessary. Not so much a Tiger Mother as a…Meerkat Mum? So, how did you make this masterpiece? I hear you cry. Well, I’ll tell you, but first let me say that the school sent home a very strong message of it being about the children’s creativity (basically telling all the tiger mums to get back in their cages). So… Step 1: Decide on your concept Over to my son. As mentioned, he is six. I said, “What shall we put on your bonnet?” He said, “Lego.” OK, then. As an afterthought he added, “And a prayer.” So we had our concept sorted. Step 2: Buy everything in sight I quite literally went to town. No shop was left unturned. Obviously, we have loads of Lego, but no other kind of kit at all. Not even a bonnet. I found one of those immediately in my opportune supermarket, for £1, which I was pretty chuffed with considering what happened next. I went craft crazy! I bought ribbons, tapestry thread, needles, mini chocolate eggs, fluffy chicks in all shapes and colours, and – for the first time ever, and I was thinking of Blue Peter all the way – some double-sided sticky tape! It’s a real thing! As a child, I thought it was only something they had on TV. I still kinda believed that, till I found it in WHSmith. There all along! Step 3: Realise that nothing is sticky enough I bought these ridiculous things called glue dots. Ideal, I thought, for affixing chocolate eggs and fluffy chicks to a hat – and mess-free to boot! I should have known it was too good to be true. Useless. And have you tried double-sided sticky tape? Trying to peel it off the backing is like trying to open a tampon in a hurry – maddeningly impossible. And it was nowhere near sticky enough anyway. So for the chicks and eggs, I went for PVA glue. Great globules of it, that dripped through the holes in the bonnet onto the (uncovered – I am a craft virgin after all) table. Worked fine for the eggs, but we went back a few minutes later to find the chicks in varying stages of keel, as though they’d been at a barrel of port in our absence. But by holding them patiently on, the little ones did eventually stay stuck. The big ones, no chance.   Step 4: Sew Lego base on to bonnet Yep, the Lego base was no way going to stick with my paltry means, and although I had bought some superglue in my sticky-stuff spree, I didn’t want to wreck the base for future use. So, I sewed it on. Worked a treat. This is where my son’s brilliance really came into play. He decided to put Cranky the crane on top, so he could hold a basket with an egg in it, for Easter. Driven by a curiously immobile bunny. And he wrote his prayer all by himself (with a bit of spelling help) in beautiful handwriting. We had to Sellotape the Lego bricks together, stick the egg in the basket with glue and disassemble the top for transit to school, but we’d done it! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but – we won! The teacher-judge said she had picked it because it was “so original”. It certainly is that. Now, I’m already thinking of how to top it next year. Not that I’m competitive or anything…

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Linking up with Mini Creations at kidGLloves

Kirsty’s Handmade Christmas meets Michel Roux. A recipe made in heaven – that even I couldn’t mess up.

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who would give homebaked gifts at Christmas and entertain my kids and their friends with cute baking experiences – despite never having done any such thing ever in my life.

So when Bakedin sent me a little box of delights, I fulfilled the latter dream (afraid I was too greedy to give it away!). The magical box popped through the letterbox right on the day one of the boys had a playdate at home. It contained everything needed to produce a festive treat and an easy step-by-step guide to doing so.

I don’t know about you, but I find weighing and measuring with children a giant pain, as they push down on the scales, whack the bottom of the flour packet producing a cloud of mess, and generally make it all take a lot longer than it should. Never mind hunting down the tub of cocoa powder that hasn’t been seen since 2006. So to have all the ingredients in little pre-weighed packages was a great boon, allowing us to jump straight to the whack it in and stir it stage that the children love so much.

All you have to provide is an egg and 65g butter – which for obvious reasons are not included in the box.

So we mixed up our flour, sugar, cocoa powder, cranberries, pecans and orange essence into a yummy goo, following the recipe of none other than world-renowned chef, Michel Roux (uncle of Michel Roux Jnr of Masterchef fame). Famous for his pastry expertise, three Michelin-starred Michel devises the recipes offered by Bakedin’s monthly baking club.

While it was cooking we cut out the snowflake shape from the template provided (there was even a perfectly sized piece of baking paper in the box to save that moment of realisation that you ran out last Christmas). A bit fiddly for a five-year-old, so I did it, but I let them sprinkle on the icing sugar when the brownie had cooled to produce the beautiful snowflake brownie. (Please ignore the hole where my son stuck his finger in – just to see…!)

I felt like Kirsty, Nigella and Mary Poppins all wrapped into one!

As you can see, the final result was not huge, but plenty for six slices. I loved the orangey hint to the chocolate and it was a delicious squidgy treat to end a pretty successful playdate.

A bake in a box would be a lovely gift – and one that keeps on giving, as you can buy a monthly subscription (3 months and upwards). I am delighted to offer a discount code for your first month’s subscription, bringing the price to £3.99 (full price £9.99). Just type in wrymummy on Bakedin, where prompted.

Happy baking and a very happy Christmas!