I’m the right kind of black person. But I’m still afraid.

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Cooking with Kids: Unicorn Poop

If you weren’t seduced by the title, you will be by the list of ingredients for these delicious nuggets of sugary goodness.

IMG_0403On our last visit to the library, we were pleased to find out that my daughter’s copy of Hope and Greenwood’s Life is Sweet had finally come in. We’d been watching Sweets Made Simple on iPlayer and as soon as she got the book home she was determined to start churning out pounds of fudge and marshmallows and gummies. I don’t think even the most competent six year old should really be fooling around with sugar thermometers on her own… and on a Sunday morning, I’m not really in the mood either.

So we compromised and made Unicorn Mallow Pops. Except I had no popsicle sticks, so they became Unicorn Poop.

Kids love anything with sparkles and poop, right?

The gold lustre spray is available from Dr Oetker but in no way necessary. Although it can be very handy to have gold spray in the cupboard to make any food look like it was crafted by fairies.

Fairy green beans anyone?IMG_0408

Unicorn Poop

Serves: Well, as many as can clamour in the kitchen to scoff them. They don’t keep very well, so plan on eating them all immediately.


1 bag of microwave popcorn, sweet or salty (we prefer salty)
200g of marshmallows (any colour or shape, you’re melting them)
50g unsalted butter
Gold lustre spray, optional

1) Microwave the popcorn according to the instructions on the bag. You won’t need all of it, so eat a bit.IMG_0404

2) Melt the butter in a large saucepan over a low heat. Still on the heat and stirring occasionally, toss in the marshmallows until you have an unctuous sweet gooey mess that is all too tempting to stick your fingers in.IMG_04063) Turn off the heat and stir in the popcorn. Then leave the kitchen for 30 minutes to let it cool.IMG_04074) When the mix is cool enough to handle, form it into small balls. Or huge ones. Or whatever the wee ones fancy. Place on greaseproof paper to set. Spray them with gold spray until they resemble something that has fallen out of the bottom of a mythical creature.


In praise of the Smug Mummy.

My name is Kelly. I am 32 (or 28 if a handsome young fellow asks) and I am a Smug Mummy. And proud.

chloepuntingI wholeheartedly believe my child is wonderful and am happy to celebrate that. If people tell me she is great or gorgeous or funny or polite or anything good… I say thank you. I do not try to pull a face and say ‘oh well, you should see her when…’ because there is no need to. Live in the moment. Your kiddo is great – great enough for someone else to need to tell you in fact!

Last night was parent’s evening, and after a glittering review on her progress from her teacher, her father turned to me and asked…

‘Aren’t you tired of hearing how great she is?’

What a ridiculous question. Of course not. You’re not likely to put as much blood, sweat and tears – often literally – into anything compared to raising your kids, so why not celebrate that something has gone right? If that makes me a Smug Mummy, so be it.

Self depreciation seems to be ingrained in British culture. If someone compliments your outfit, you’re supposed to counter with how it was in the sale or how you’re just trying to hide your muffin top. Or detract from the bird’s nest on your head. I don’t advise you to morph yourself into Samantha Brick, but you’re allowed to love what you’re wearing, surely?

Someone loves the dinner you served? Obviously it’s ‘something you just through together’ or could have used more garlic/less salt/a bit more unicorn horn.Even if you’ve completed what feels like a five-hour Masterchef audition and your kitchen looks like an ample skirmish occurred there earlier that evening.

But why? Why not stand up and take the flattery? Goodness knows it’s hard to come by.

So next time someone tells you that your little one is great, thank them. And grin. And be that Smug Mummy. Because these are the comments you can cling to next time they’re using your Chanel lipstick as grease paint for the dog or refusing to eat the meal they loved 20 minutes ago ‘because it smells like nuts and poo’.