Monster mash...

In my house, I am famous for my mashed potatoes.  I can't confess to having some secret formula, but perhaps the butter mountain and vicious beating with a wooden spoon have something to do with its popularity.

Son number two, who is starting to recover from his life-threatening gumboil decided that for dinner last night, he would 'try' to eat a Chicken Kiev.  I thought this a great idea, but when I suggested some curly chips to go with it, these were discarded as being 'too pointy'.  'Anyway', he said, 'I found some mashed potato in the freezer.  I've got it out to defrost'.  Sure enough, there was one of my plastic pots crammed with the creamy stuff, so I left him to rustle up his own dinner (my capacity to care will only last so long before the kids understand that they're on their own).

Standing in the kitchen (some would call it supervising) I watched as the chicken was taken from the oven.  'I'll just heat my mash up', said son number two, tipping it into a saucepan so that he could warm it through on the hob.  

'Hasn't that got enough butter in it already?' I asked him as I watched him dollop more and more butter in the pan.  'It's not very yellow', was his response.  'Are you sure this is your mash, and not a shop bought one?'

Bloody cheek of the boy.  Bustling over to the hob I peered into the saucepan which was now full of a rather gloopy looking stuff.

And then the penny dropped.

'That's not mashed potato', I said, (between choking with laughter).  'That's vanilla butter icing'. This was what had been left over from my mammoth baking session a few weeks ago.  I'd put it in the freezer as there was easily enough for another couple of cakes.  Not once had I thought to myself, 'Now that would be lovely with a bit of garlicky chicken'.

How we laughed.  He didn't, because his Kiev went cold while he was cooking the 'pointy' chips, but boy, it was funny.

And another daft thing happened yesterday.  As you know, I have small adverts running next to my blog. If one of these ads is looked at, then I get a millionth of 1p as a reward.  So with my new page (hope you like it?) I thought I'd take a look at the Harry's razor ad.  Now this is a grooming regime for men, and I'm dubious that any of my lovely readers would really need to be encouraged into the world of facial grooming, but they had a free trial on, and I thought I'd sign up on behalf of the husband.

All was going well until I reached the final page.  I've taken a screenshot of this, so you will be able to understand my confusion.

Why wasn't there a third choice of statement, which said, 'I have no hair on my head'?

I could have ticked that one.  Like I said, I was signing up on behalf of the husband...