A Christmas Memory I'll Never Have

Christmas time is a time for making memories. Yesterday, my family made a memory without me.

See, my 3rd grade son made a gift for me at school and brought it home last Friday. He was so excited about it, but didn't want to give it to me in the form in which it came home. So, he asked his Dad to help him.

I was promptly told to leave the house so they could 'work'. I took advantage of the time and went Christmas shopping. On the last Sunday before Christmas. It was quite overwhelming.

But not as overwhelming as what my husband experienced.

The project took place in the kitchen, a foriegn, forbidding land for my husband. It brings to mind the chef from Ratatouille.

Maybe anyone can cook, but not everyone is successful.

While I was out, I got a call asking how to cream butter. This, to me, is a given...like how to make a bowl of cereal or boil water. It took a while for me to think about and then walk my husband through the steps, including locating the correct handmixer and beaters.

While trying to park my van in the overly-crowded Target parking lot, I listened to the commotion in the background. As I pulled into the parking spot, I heard the mixer turn on, my husband yelp, and the phone clatter to the ground.

My daughter picked up the phone and sounded frightened as she checked to see if I was still there. Afraid my shopping excursion was over before I'd even begun, I asked if her Dad still had all his fingers. Her voice shook with uncertainty as she said, "Yeah, I think so. But I have to go now." And she hung up. The entire time I was out, I kept wondering and worrying about what was going on in my kitchen.

I kind of wish I'd been 'a fly on the wall' to witness the catastrophy in progress. Three sticks of butter and one volcanic explosion of flour (which was "amazing" to witness) later, the project was complete. It took all five kids to help clean up. But, when I got home, my kitchen was clean and

a lovely tray full of M&M's and White Chocolate Chunk Cookies awaited my taste test. My son waited expectantly as I bit into the perfectly golden cookie. It was surprisingly tasty. He then explained to me that the project at school was to make a gift which would require me to bake the cookies. He didn't want to make me have to work in the kitchen, so he wanted to make the cookies for me.

His thoughtfulness was even sweeter than cookies.

Oh, and my husband did not remove his fingers in the mixer, but we still aren't sure if he broke something or not.