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I used to make a pretty mean chocolate chip cookie. The kids loved them and Rob loved them. I loved that they loved them. Nothing is better than to please your family with fine food. When we had a hankering for something good, I would whip up a batch.
And then I got lazy.
Or I had to work too much and it got cut from my list of priorities.
The kids would ask
and Rob would ask
and I would say "not right now."
Then a marvelous thing started to happen. Jordan got desperate and she opened the cookbook and started cooking. She made cookies, and not just chocolate chip cookies either. She made brownies and cake and just about anything else we had ingredients for. She got really good at it and I sat back and relaxed.
Ahhhh.
I even let her enjoy all the compliments, for I knew the fulfillment that comes with satisfied customers.
Well it had been awhile and I was missing the praise and adoration that came with a batch of cookies the old feelings of "mommy in the kitchen whipping up a batch of cookies for the fam" started to kick in.
Yesterday, as I prepared my cooking area, the kid's surprise and excitement spurred me on. I pulled out my old recipe for my cookies and realized I did not have shortening.
Bummer.
I couldn't even remember the last time I had shortening. No wonder we didn't see these cookies being produced. Jordan worked with what she had.
Nevertheless, I needed to bake. Butter, as tricky as it is, would have to do.
Or not.
I pulled batch after batch of cookies from the oven that Flat Stanley would be proud of. While the family devoured them, I could not shake off my disappointment.
The admiration was absent.
The pity was there.
I had failed.
I should leave cooking to the teenager.
A spark of hope came and was dashed just as quickly with this one comment.
He was so brutally, though innocently honest.
I am going to the store today to get shortening.
And then I got lazy.
Or I had to work too much and it got cut from my list of priorities.
The kids would ask
and Rob would ask
and I would say "not right now."
Then a marvelous thing started to happen. Jordan got desperate and she opened the cookbook and started cooking. She made cookies, and not just chocolate chip cookies either. She made brownies and cake and just about anything else we had ingredients for. She got really good at it and I sat back and relaxed.
Ahhhh.
I even let her enjoy all the compliments, for I knew the fulfillment that comes with satisfied customers.
Well it had been awhile and
Yesterday, as I prepared my cooking area, the kid's surprise and excitement spurred me on. I pulled out my old recipe for my cookies and realized I did not have shortening.
Bummer.
I couldn't even remember the last time I had shortening. No wonder we didn't see these cookies being produced. Jordan worked with what she had.
Nevertheless, I needed to bake. Butter, as tricky as it is, would have to do.
Or not.
I pulled batch after batch of cookies from the oven that Flat Stanley would be proud of. While the family devoured them, I could not shake off my disappointment.
The admiration was absent.
The pity was there.
I had failed.
I should leave cooking to the teenager.
A spark of hope came and was dashed just as quickly with this one comment.
Brandon: Mom, you should make cookies more often. You used to make them so good. Now you haven't made them in so long you have forgotten how.
He was so brutally, though innocently honest.
I am going to the store today to get shortening.
4 comments:
You tried. I'll be down for the next batch, though. Especially if you have the shortening.
You're better than I am, though. I never make cookies. I guess I better start practicing.
Out of the mouths of babes...
See what happens when you spoil them?
I am right with you on the pity. My children pity me everytime I try to cook and they choke down my burnt food and flash a tiny half smile and say "I love you mom." But at least you aren't giving up! You can do it.
Oooo, warm chocolate chip cookies on an overcast chilly day sounds like the right recipe to me! I need your recipe.
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