Alright so last week my niece was turning six and my sister goes, “Hey since you’re the crafty aunt, wanna handle party snacks?” Typical. Didn’t ask if I wanted to, just assumed. But hey, I love the kid, so fine. Brainstormed like crazy – cupcakes? Boring. Cake pops? Messy. Then Pinterest ambushed me: dino cookies. “Fun!” I thought. “Easy!” I lied to myself.
The Pinterest Trap & Grocery Dash
Saw these perfect pastel dinosaurs online and figured, “How hard could it be?” Spoiler: Very. Dug out my ancient rolling pin, remembered I had zero cookie cutters, and my food coloring expired during the Obama administration. Cue the midnight supermarket run. Grabbed:
- Pre-made sugar cookie dough (judge me later)
- Icing sugar & meringue powder (apparently vital)
- A cheap dinosaur cutter set (plastic, looked flimsy)
- New food gels (super bright, slightly terrifying colors)
Felt confident walking out. Pride before the fall, right?
Cookie Chaos Begins
Saturday morning. Coffee brewing, optimism high. Rolled out the dough – too sticky. Flour explosion happened. Coated myself and half the kitchen. Tried chilling the dough. Waited. Re-rolled. Managed to stamp out maybe five decent T-Rexes before the cutter started sticking horribly. Spent ten minutes wrestling with that stupid Triceratops shape; dough kept ripping. Ended up with:
- 3 recognisable T-Rex
- 5 blob-saurs (might have been Stegosaurus?)
- 2 broken long-necks
- 1 mutant dino that defied classification
Baked ’em. Edges browned faster than expected. So now I had crispy-footed dinosaurs. Cool. Realised royal icing was next. Panicked slightly.
Icing Nightmares & Vodka?
Mixed icing sugar, water, meringue powder. Too thick. Added water. Now too runny. Added more sugar. Back to cement. Felt rage building. Divided into bowls, added the crazy bright colors. Green looked radioactive. Red looked like danger. Started outlining a T-Rex. Hand shook. Outline looked like a drunk toddler did it. Flooded the inside. Colours bled. Looked awful. Remembered a hack: tiny bit of clear alcohol stops icing going rock hard. Didn’t have extract. Grabbed husband’s vodka. Poured a teaspoon. Immediately felt like a mad scientist. Did it work? Maybe? They dried slightly less concrete-like.
Pro Tip? Failure: Thicker outlining consistency is KEY. Mine was soup. Flooding was a disaster zone. Learned too late. Also, vodka? Smell vanished, cookies were fine. Desperate times.
The Assembly Line Horror (and Tiny Helpers)
Sunday. Party looming. Had to finish these edible monstrosities. Melted chocolate for eyes? Eyes became goopy blobs. Used sprinkles for spots. Sprinkles bounced everywhere. Found some under the fridge months later. My sister’s kids “helped.” One ate three broken rejects. Another tried painting an icing volcano on a plate. It became abstract art. I was covered in green icing, smelling faintly of vodka, surrounded by mutant dinos. Felt like a scene from Jurassic Park meets Kitchen Nightmares.
The Party Verdict
Placed them on the party table next to sensible fruit skewers. Held my breath. Kids? Went NUTS. Grabbed the mutants first! Didn’t care about lopsided eyes or blobby legs. “Cool T-Rex!” shouted one kid, pointing clearly at my blob-saur. Parents gave polite “interesting!” smiles while probably eyeing the fruit. Success by 6-year-old standards? Absolute victory. Taste? Surprisingly edible. Sweet, crunchy (too crunchy honestly), with a hint of… desperation.
Would I Do It Again?
Hell. No. Okay, maybe. But differently. Buy sturdier cutters. PRACTICE the icing consistency beforehand. Hide the vodka quicker before explanations are needed. They weren’t pretty, but man, the kids loved tearing the heads off those Triceratops. Total chaos. Felt like victory, covered in sprinkles. Happy birthday, kid. Auntie needs therapy.
