Cookies Galore!
Last week I got the notion that it would be fun for my kids and I to bake Christmas cookies. Build a nice holiday memory, cross it off our bucket list. We have never done this together and I, personally, haven’t baked cookies in decades. Now I know why.
Sydney put Christmas songs on her iPhone to set the mood, while I started passing ingredients to Jayson, my son, to line up on the counter. We were all excited. Sydney picked a cookie to make (caramel and seat salt), Jayson picked a cookie (red velvet) and I picked a cookie (magic cookie bars) then we made two more kinds; the classic sugar cookie and the iconic peanut butter with a Hershey kiss – five in all. Put a gun to my head. I am an idiot. Clearly I am not a baker because anyone who bakes knows better than to try to tackle five different kinds of cookies in one day.
While the kids woke up and had breakfast, I ran to Foodtown to purchase all the ingredients. I have no idea why but I had the good sense to buy two more cookie sheets and two disposable cookie sheets. Who knows how long the baking process would have taken had I not purchased more cookie sheets.
Armed with six baking trays, a mixer, an array of bowls, sticks of butter, spoons, nut meats, bags of sugar and flour, Hershey kisses, coconut, condensed milk and a slew of other ingredients, we were ready and couldn’t wait to get started. Sydney and Jayson unwrapped the Hershey kisses as I preheated the oven to, “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.”
First up, peanut butter and chocolate kiss cookies. Burnt them! I threw shade at my daughter for convincing me to leave them in another minute causing them to burn. (Threw shade is the new hip term teenagers are using in place of: bitched at, picked on, gave crap to, etc.) After completely stressing her out, she whipped up another batch of dough to shut me up and – burnt them! This time it was all me. I burnt the second batch. She did not give me any shade for my mistake. After four hours or so, my son lost interest and abandoned us for Xbox. I was surprised he lasted that long. Sydney and I took turns washing everything and wiping down the counters when we switched to a different cookie.
Twelve loooooong hours later – I kid you not – Syd and I were finally loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. My legs were killing me and Sydney looked at me and said, “Mom, we are never doing this again.”
It was my fault. In hindsight, we should have picked two kinds and made the rest on a different day. So much for fond, happy memories of baking cookies with my kids.