When you decide to bake a batch of cookies, it is usually spur of the moment, on a craving or last minute school or holiday delivery. There isn’t a lot of thought for the most part, follow the recipe, use good ingredients and bake – the cookies usually turn out great to wonderful reviews – especially your own over milk or coffee.
So what n the heck happens to kids? Do they over bake? under bake? Not enough decoration? Wrong cookie cutter? Nut issue? Or do they just go stale too fast? After 30 years I just can’t tell you anything.
Unlike a fast recipe, spur of the moment, just get it done, I planned, loved and cherished 3 beautiful daughters. I think the Grinch would understand, as my heart grew three sizes too big with each bundle placed in my arms. If there was ever a time when angels sang that was the time. It continued too, as I watched and played with them, tucked them in and never let a moment in my life be more important than the love I had for them.
Then without warning – they “touched” each other in the cookie jar of my life.
One had better sugar, one was being saved for last, so IT was the favored one, and one hated jars and wanted to jump out for the coffee. Suddenly, there were more crumbs than I could clean up and they all came from the same ingredients, recipe, oven and intentions.
If it were possible, I think these 3 cookies as decorated and perfect as they are would send the baker off to the oven. The baker who wants nothing more than to see them on a special plate, every color and sparkle of a rainbow presented and warm to the touch with a little gold around the edges.
Nothing has changed for these perfect cookies; expect the amount of time they have been exposed to life. Like us all, they have suffered some in the process with a bump, a crumble or missing candy. The cookie jar still sits open for them in a kitchen of love, acceptance and hope just like it was the first day out of the oven.
Two roads may have been offered, and I know I took the one less traveled, but I thought I would always have some special cookies in my sack for those times when I was emotionally starved and needed the reassurance they were there.
Sadly and so confusingly I now know I should have just gotten a V-8.