December 20, 2011

Christmas Cookies

not so much

I don't usually hear voices, except in the middle of the grocery store around the holidays. Every year without fail the display of Christmas cookie ingredients speaks to me.

"You can totally do this," encouraged a mound of almond bark.

"You're not a woman if you don't do this," said a tub of peanut butter and a bag of Hershey's kisses.

"Buy me!" screamed a cookie press.

I swiped it all into my shopping cart before the candy thermometer could open her mouth.

I am deathly afraid of candy thermometers.

I had all of the cookie supplies stored safely out of view, that is, until this afternoon when I found my three year-old sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his way through a bag of toffee chips.

"There's a party in my tummy," he explained when I asked him what he was doing. "So yummy. So yummy."

I snatched the bag out of his hands, but it was too late. My older kids and their friends saw the forbidden fruit.

"Really?" my daughter asked, clasping her hands together in eager anticipation. It was like I was holding a large white horse wearing a purple saddle (her latest object of desire).

I learned very quickly that making cookies with seven helpers is seven times the fun.

My three year-old was tasked with unwrapping 25 Hershey's kisses. When he was done, he announced that he had licked four of the candies, but couldn't remember which ones.

My sons and their friends were thrilled to discover that when rolled just the right way, chocolate cookie dough bears a striking resemblance to dog feces.

My daughter was insistent on measuring everything herself, which resulted in cookie dough with twice as much flour as the recipe required.

"Exercise extreme caution," I whispered to my husband he came through the front door and was greeted with seven outstretched plates.

"Try mine first!" everyone yelled in unison.

"Hmm," my husband said, studying each of the objects with a critical eye. He found it hard to choose between the bloated snickerdoodles and the turds.

"Can we give the rest to our neighbors?" my kids asked. "Please?"

We all agreed that it's good to be generous around the holidays.


Kim and Steve said...

OH, my gosh! The Party in my tummy nearly made me pee (but I am pregnant!) and I refused to post about how M put his finger in every. single. snickerdoodle...because I needed to give them away. Love it!

Meagan Grant said...

I have the same experience when I walk down the beer aisle. We used to be such good friends and I don't think we ever property said our goodbyes. =)

I can totally envision your husbands face as he is greeted with the plate of terror. How fortunate that you have neighbors to pawn the turds off onto. Sometimes things just have a way of working themselves out!

BeckyB.West said...

Better yet, put the cookies in the freezer and save them to hand out at next summer's "Funival" in your neighborhood. Baking with my children makes me break out in hives.

Mom of 12 said...

That sounds like my house! Too much sweets and bad cooking measurements. Not as bad as my daughter putting in 24 tablespoons of baking powder in the pancakes... yeah, it was only suppose to be a couple teaspoons...

read the whole story at

Grey Skies And A Laurel Tree said...

I am now singing "There is a Party in my Tummy" and I am sure it will stick in my head for the rest of the day! Hope the neighbors survive! ;)

Totally Taylor said...

Before I had kids I had visions us all lined up at the counter, doing this together, perhaps singing a song like in Mary Poppins, everyone would be neat, wait their turn and we would all laugh and hug and the cookies would be perfect, in this fantasy I was also wearing a dress, heels and pearls, like in Father Knows Best. Let's just say, that didn't happen, take the opposite, crap on it and that's what happens, there are tears, and screaming and cookie dough on the ceiling (how do they do that?). I now have baby gates up at the kitchen, one child at a time gets to dump a pre-measured something into one bowl, it's not the fantasy I had in mind, but I don't lose my mind either.

Kids are fun! Kids are fun! Kids are fun! Repeat until you believe it.

Lisa & Aukuso said...

Who doesn't LOVE Yo! Gabba Gabba! as much as my 2 year old. Thanks for placing that song on repeat in my head.

We never got to help my mom cook... now that I'm a mother (although to a young child) I can already see why!

Stephanie said...

When we dropped off cookies this year, I made sure to disclose that they were made by the children. I didn't want the credit.

Molly said...

This "My three year-old was tasked with unwrapping 25 Hershey's kisses. When he was done, he announced that he had licked four of the candies, but couldn't remember which ones." set me on the floor laughing. That child is brilliant!!

Christine said...

Ha ha...I guess I won't complain that none of the kids want to help me with the cookies anymore! (I'm glad I don't live next to you ;)

Anonymous said...

my kids refuse to help me make cookies...but I make them anyway. This year has been particularly awful. The 13 year old seems to have somehow glued his butt to the sofa downstairs with a car racing video I took a bunch of dough down there and threatened to dispose of the game system until all the dough had been rolled into cookies. The 15 year old goes into hysterics if asked to step away from his medieval game. The 15 minutes he spares to 'help' all I hear is ongoing hysterics 'ohmygodsosomeoneisgoingtosiegemycastleandthedragonisgoingtoburndowntheturretsIjustbuiltIHAVETOGONOW!' So imagine my total and complete raging meltdown last night when I went to freeze yet another 3 batches of cookies (and I've been baking for a week now) only to discover that the whining little turds have eaten HALF OF WHAT I BAKED. For a party. For inlaws. And as gifts.


Deveny said...

Brobee quote, nice! haha

Brookes4boys said...

"party in my tummy"! LOL, awesome! Around here, I bake (unless someone wants to help stir, cause, GOSH, my arm gets tired stirring cookie dough) and the kids decorate. The cookies may not be the prettiest, but at least they are edible :)

Michelle Potter said...

LOL. I am now fortunate enough to have children who can operate an oven all by themselves. So if my kids say, "Let's bake cookies!" I can say, "Sure, go ahead!" and sit on the couch with a book. :)

Of course, we did have a minor meltdown last week when my daughter organized Christmas caroling for half the neighborhood, and my son made the snacks. I was trying to let him do it all on his own, but we were running late, so I asked my husband to assist with the cookie making -- just to make sure they were done in time. Turns out that my son had picked the single most complicated cookie recipe that the Joy of Cooking had to offer. The cookies were supposed to be baked THREE TIMES. Suffice to say, we just had hot cocoa.

Karen in NC said...

This made me laugh SO HARD! Dog feces.....LOL!!!!

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