I Wanna Cookie!
“I wanna cookie.” My youngest brother is famous for expressing this wish; in the middle of the night, from his crib, in my parents bedroom. My father, not known to indulge his children’s demands, gave him one-regularly. What can I say? This brother was the baby of the family. Later when sleeping arrangements removed him from my parents room, my brother found another source of cookies. The neighbors. Earnestly he informed the grandmas on the block, “My mother lets me have cookies.” He came away happy.
To be fair, my husband was also a cookie monster. When his mother refused any treats before supper, he stomped up to his room muttering, “I’ll show that mother of mine.” The stock pile of cookies in his pillowcase curbed his hunger pains.
Cookie obsession runs strong in our boys. It must, they get it from both sides. One 3 year-old happily helped himself to the cookie bucket waiting in the van for the camping trip. No problem keeping him occupied while we packed. The three older children blamed the raided cookie jar on their youngest brother. He was 6 months old at the time of the crime. Nice try guys. Our youngest was in the high chair, cheerfully plastering the last of his cookie over his face. He banged the tray, interrupting a conversation I was having with a friend. “Cookie” The word came clearly from him. My friend and I exchanged glances, confirming the fact that we had just heard his first word. Spoken at 6 months of age. Incidentally the rest of his vocabulary waited over half a year.
Cookie baking occupies me on a weekly basis. Cookie Friday at our house is well established. The grade school children who live on the road stop that day for a treat. Friday morning my husband takes a tin of fresh baked cookies (or other goodies) with him to the seminary classroom. Sem men need treats too! The cookie jar is seldom empty, ready for any visitor, Cookie Friday or not.
Not surprising that Nan from Steeple in the Distance should find herself attempting to keep a full cookie jar.
Vati pulled a pfeffernuesse from a bowl and dunked it into his coffee. The hard round cookie floated to the top and he pushed against it with the back of his spoon to submerge it. Rob reached for one of his own and innocently pushed the bowl closer to Vati, and away from Seth. Seth reached, rising from his seat to get one. “Be more polite to ask there, Seth,” came Vati’s mild reproof.
“Bitte,” Seth managed, resuming his seat. He plunged one into his drink and two into his pocket.
Breakfast clattered to its usual conclusion. The table was strewn with dishes crusted with the remains of oatmeal and eggs and silverware in various states of disarray.
“Seth, get to work,” Vati ordered after the return of thanks. “Rob and I’ll finish the mucking. Anything you might need, Nan?”
“Dirty laundry for tomorrow’s evening service,” Nan stated.
“Let’s get it to her and we can all get at the day’s work.” Vati plucked a pfeffernuesse from the bowl, Rob took several, and Seth snatched the last two to add to the stash in his pocket. The cookies were baked until hard and, provided they were not consumed first, should last until Easter. Nan eyed the empty bowl. She had intended the bowl to last through Christmas Day. If Vati asked she would bring more; if not, the bowl would remain empty.
The cookies in the picture came fresh from my oven this afternoon. March is going to be busy. I baked more than required to ‘bank’ some in the freezer. Anybody wanna cookie?
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