December 23, 2015 § 1 Comment
I don’t do crafts. But a few weeks before Christmas I decided I was going to. Because that’s what good parents do during the holidays. Paul was working nights, so I was flying solo on this.
Wednesday: On a trip to Target (duh) I decide baking cookies will be the perfect thing to get in the holiday spirit. I like baking, and I’m good at it. Sometimes.
Friday: After two days of the ingredients sitting on the counter, I decide to skip including my two year old in the dough-making process. It’s not like this is a life skill she HAS to learn. I make the dough on my own so it’s ready when she gets home from preschool. She comes home from school in meltdown mode. I make the executive decision to delay cookie making.
Monday: 3/4 of the dough still sitting in fridge. The other 1/4 I ate over the weekend.
Wednesday: A week later. This is the day we will bake! HH has been having night terrors and sleep-walking when she goes to bed after 7:15 (fun), so we rush through dinner and have just enough time to get the dough out, roll it, cookie cutter some shapes (which she is way less into than I thought she would be), and throw them in the oven. No time to decorate. No time to admire the finished product. I put the cookies in a tupperware after she goes to bed, keep frosting ingredients in the fridge.
Friday: Half of the cookies are gone because I ate them. Sans-frosting.
Sunday: Facetime with Nana and Opa. When I suggest HH show them the cookies she baked, she accidentally breaks an arm off of a star of Bethlehem. I tell her it’s OK to eat it. She looks at me confused, then suddenly the realization creeps across her face…these are edible! And not only can she eat the piece that broke off, she can eat the whole cookie. And she does so. From then on, every time she walks into the kitchen: “Cookie?”
Monday: Now that there are only 5 week-old cookies left in the tupperware, time to decorate! I get out all the decorating icings and frostings. HH smears green frosting on half of one cookie and goes, “I eat it now.” I explain that no, decorating cookies is SO FUN, we can eat them when they’re decorated, and don’t gingerbread men look better with a face? and they taste better with frosting anyway. “NO! NO FROSTING!! I EAT THE COOKIES NOW!”
So I take them away. Tears. Screams. Faux seizures. Drama.
The cream cheese I got to make special frosting is still sitting in the fridge.
Holiday crafts are the best.
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