Chocolate Cheesecake

It was one of the first really sunny days of the year yesterday, and in the afternoon I decided to go into Monton with G for a coffee (me) and a cake (both of us).

This was the sort of thing I used to do often when we lived in Saddleworth, because there were a few places to go within easy walking distance and it was a good excuse to get out of the house. Now I'm at home with her less, and we're in a much more residential area, I don't get the chance as often. Besides, Monton High Street is a drive away, and who drives anywhere just to go for coffee (other than Jerry Seinfeld)?

We went to Selo Deli, a Ukrainian sort of place which has made a bit of a splash since opening with its own Monton Tart, designed to take on the venerable Eccles Cake. I had a slice, but G went for a chocolate cheesecake.

I pointed out that she might not like the nuts on top. She agreed that she didn't like nuts, but said she wanted the cake anyway. So by the time she dug into it as shown in the picture, we'd had the following conversation:

G: "Is that nuts on it?"

Me: "No, that's sugar."

G: "Oh, sugar."

Lies about cake are acceptable lies, I think. Especially if it means avoiding tears and having to give her my cake instead, neither of which I would have particularly relished.

The cakes were great. The hat was G's choice.

Easter Egg Hunting

It was a busy Sunday of Easter egg fun for G. We started off in our back garden, where G got down to the serious work of finding little chocolate eggs that Mrs J had hidden about the place.

Not that G was in the mood for sharing them out afterwards:

We then went for an afternoon at Dunham Massey Hall near Altrincham. It's a big National Trust pile, and there was a trail laid out in the gardens for little ones to follow. Not that G was initially too sure:

But she soon perked up, and particularly enjoyed sitting in this tree:

On the way around, we encountered some chickens:

And eventually G was rewarded for completing the trail with a(nother) chocolate egg. Which she is going to enjoy rather more than this photo, when we dig it out at some future social occasion:

Little Footballer

To go along with her ballet classes on Saturday mornings, we've signed G up to go to football lessons too. She has to go from one more or less straight to the other, which means changing from a pink outfit into a blue one. Her football kit arrived on Thursday, and she was very excited to put it on and run around the house in it. The excitement only dimmed when I took her into the back garden for a kickabout, and she looked at me over a curled lip and muttered "it's too windy daddy" before trudging back inside.

I was sleeping off a night shift on Saturday morning so Mrs J took her along to both ballet and football. She reported back that G had a great time at the footy, but that "her ball control is a bit of an issue". Having suffered through Scotland losing at home to Wales on Friday evening, I can say that this technical flaw may not necessarily hinder my Scotland-qualified daughter's prospects of an international call-up.

Her football skills need some work, but she did return clutching an Easter egg, which she won for doing the best colouring in her group. Up to now, colouring hasn't usually been considered part of an athlete's training programme. But given that the Easter egg is clearly far too big for G to manage on her own, I'd be happy enough for her to bring one back every week.

Easter Cakes

G went through another rite of passage over the Easter weekend, as she made chocolate rice crispy cakes with Mrs J. She'd already brought one home from nursery, and seemed to know a lot about what to do. Here she is standing on a chair and dishing the mixture into the cases. Much to her disapppointment, we didn't let her eat them all.

Chocolate Ice Cream

Ever since G was little I've often taken her for an ice cream. This used to be so I could have a little treat while giving her a bottle of milk, but eventually she graduated onto having an ice cream of her own.

Knowing how fickle toddlers can be over their food, I've always got her a vanilla cone, because I know she likes it and will finish it without having a tantrum and throwing it somewhere. But on Friday, I decided to let her pick for herself. "Brown one!" she said, pointing at the tub of chocolate. So she had her first ever chocolate ice cream (I got a vanilla one myself, just in case she changed her mind halfway through, but unsurprisingly this didn't prove necessary).

Given Mrs J's fondness for chocolate, this could be the beginning of a long relationship for G. A momentous day, indeed. The next step will be chocolate sauce.