The Fake Bake

Today I pretended that I was a good mother and set about making cookies with The Toddler. It was a Fake Bake. Fake because I really didn't want to do it and fake because I can't cook. I can't even do salad cream on celery.
The Toddler was very excited because the cookies were themed with In The Night Garden and everything ninky nonky iggle piggle just drives him crazy. So I sat him on the work top and we got a bowl, emptied the cookie mix, added a teaspoon of water and an egg. It was all going swimmingly and exactly like Nigella until I happened to turn around for what was exactly one hundredth of a second and The Toddler, seizing the opportunity, grabbed the kettle and poured its entire contents into the batter. When I looked back the bowl was full of gooey lukewarm slime.

Instead of my usual reaction of losing it and chucking The Toddler on the naughty step, I decided to resolve the situation by adding some flour to the cookie swamp. Our flour being two years out of date of course. So when the mixture was put on the baking tray ready to pop in the oven, this is what it looked like:

Whilst the alien cookies were baking, The Toddler and I went upstairs to play. Forty minutes later, upon smelling some burning, I remembered there was something in the oven.

Here is the end result:

Upsy Daisy, bless her, got it the worst:

but she was the one The Toddler chose to eat. He loved it. And he wasn't even faking.