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The Bicycle Cake

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All Ethan wanted for his fifth birthday was a bicycle cake. This provided a particular challenge for his father, who as the resident family cake decorator was dismayed that all of the bicycle cake designs he had encountered during his internet research were particularly fiddly and intricate, and fiddly and intricate were not really a speciality of Ethan’s dad who was more a slab and plastic bits man. 

But Ethan was absolute resolute; he wanted a bicycle cake. 

Ethan’s dad did not want to disappoint his only son or give Ethan’s mother cause to be miffed with him, because being ‘miffed’ generally resulted in a week of baked beans on toast and a lot of silence. The silence was nice but she was a really good cook normally and baked beans on toast just made him sad, and more than a bit windy.

So, Ethan’s dad agreed to make the bicycle cake. 

To add more pressure to the situation, his wife had invited the entire family around for Ethan’s birthday, meaning if the bicycle cake fell below par he would never, ever live it down. 

Ever.

Ethan’s dad practised daily until it had become obvious that the eating of said cakes was adding inches to the family’s waists and his wife decided that he had had enough practice; especially if she was going to fit into the outfit she had bought for the party.

The day before the party arrived. Ethan’s dad stayed up late into the early hours of the morning; mixing, baking, cutting, frosting. Finally, an hour before the party, the triumphant bicycle cake was placed upon the centre coffee table of the great room for all to admire. 

And admire they did. Oohs and ahhhs from all of the guests made Ethan’s dad feel more and more proud until at last the moment had arrived for Ethan to be sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to and cut his cake. 

The crowd gathered into the great room but there was no Ethan to be found. His mother and father looked everywhere while their guests quietly waited and pretended to be impressed by the perfection of the cake; which was difficult considering it was just a cake, after all. 

After some 20 minutes, Ethan rode into the room atop of his bike. 

The guests thought this odd but did not comment; Ethan was rather indulged, after all. 

It was at this moment that his parents arrived into the room. 

“Ethan!” His mother exclaimed. “Why are you on your bike inside the house?”

He didn’t answer, he set his mouth into a determined line, rode his bicycle incredibly fast toward the coffee table, leapt upon it and rode his bike through the cake; globs of cake and frosting landed upon the gobsmacked guests’ faces. 

“Bicycle cake!” Ethan roared as he turned his bicycle around for another go.

Ethan’s dad fought back his tears in as manly way as possible.“Yes. Of course. Bicycle cake,” he said weakly.

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