Last night, I came home bearing a large basketful of homebaked cookies. All were delicious and all were beautiful. They were from Vanessa's Annual Christmas Cookie Exchange Party. I baked 72 cookies (12 one-half dozen packages) and came home with 72 delectable cookies made by 12 different people.
This afternoon I placed them all on a footed cakeplate and carefully placed a dome over them to keep them fresh. That alone was a pretty picture. It looked like something out of a quaint bakery. The cookies lay there sweetly - an edible arrangement, tempting anyone who passed by.
As I worked in the kitchen, Celeste was one who happened to pass by my display. "Mommy, can I have a cookie?" She asked.
"Yes! There are mint cookies, and orange sugar cookies, carmelized pecan cookies, and my favorite, mini chip teacakes." I offered.
I could have gone on pointing out the chocolate butterballs, the oatmeal coconut cookies, the toffee crunchies, but Celeste stopped me.
"Mom." She interrupted. "Which ones are the ones YOU baked?"
The vanishing oatmeal cookies - the ones I bake all the time, (only this time I got fancy and added dried cherries).
As my chest once again surged with heart swelling love for my loyal 6 year old, I watched her walk away content - one cookie in each hand.
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