I do remember one particular Christmas after I returned to work. I had mixed up a refrigerator full of different cookie dough to chill and the demands of five children, school plays, gift exchanges and my work schedule and the piles of laundry had left me no time to bake. My plan was to get up at about 3 a.m. on Christmas Eve morning so I could bake what I could before leaving for work and icing what needed icing after I got home. Behind my back, my dear, loving husband had tossed the dough (I could have never done this - what about the cost of the ingredients?) and picked up a tray of very nicely decorated cookies at the bakery to serve on Christmas. This is (and reasons like this) are why we are going to be celebrating 40 years of marriage next fall. He balances my crazy, obsessive nature with a teaspoon of common sense.
Meanwhile - this year I am babysitting for three of my favorite young men, my youngest grandchildren. This morning while his partners in crime (aged 14 months and 18 months) were napping, one of my favorite elves helped me bake some cookies.
Using the step stool to reach the counter, he carefully put the store bought, sliced cookies on the baking sheet.
My elf added decorative paper doilies to the Styrofoam plates so that the boys could take cookies home to their families.
And there is our plate of cookies. Nothing fancy, not really "homemade" - but made with love and help from my favorite 3 year old. And we may not be making our own cookie dough, but we are making our own memories!
