While preparing sugar cookies for Valentine’s Day has always been a delightful experience, this year’s endeavor has left me feeling somewhat crummy.
The baking saga commenced last weekend when I geared up for my yearly baking tradition. Shortly after rolling out the initial batch of cookie dough, I clumsily spilled flour all over my attire and footwear. Although I am far from a professional chef, I had never before wasted such a significant amount of the powdery substance.
As I dusted off the excess flour from my clothing, my daughter, Rosemary, made her entrance into the kitchen. Observing my baking mishaps, she decided to inject some humor into the situation.
“Dad, it looks like you’re in the midst of a fierce battle, so let’s prepare to — crumble!” she exclaimed, mimicking a boxer’s stance with raised fists. “Perhaps it’s best not to make too many cookies at once, dad, as it might be too big of a risk,” she quipped, clearly pleased with her clever wordplay.
I clarified that I hadn’t even commenced baking, let alone contemplated the quantity of cookies I intended to produce. While pouring herself a cup of coffee, Rosemary jokingly cautioned me against overindulging in cookies to the point of needing a doctor’s visit. “I wouldn’t want you to ‘overdoughse’ and end up feeling ‘crumby,’” she teased before exiting the kitchen. “Well, I do feel crumby now, all thanks to your remarks,” I retorted.
An hour later, I was poised to experiment with baking an Oreo-filled cookie. Naturally, Rosemary couldn’t resist commenting.
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“Did you know that Cookie Monster’s preferred rock band is Oreo Speedwagon?” she innocently inquired. “And have you heard about the Oreo cookie’s trip to the dentist because it lost its filling?” she added, grinning mischievously. I shook my head in amusement. “Well, then you truly are a smart cookie, Dad,” she quipped, chuckling.
After a half-hour, I retrieved my freshly baked creations from the oven. Rosemary sampled a cookie and, with a smirk, asked, “Have you had a taste of the new Wookie cookie? It’s a tad chewy.” I must admit, I walked right into that one, and she knew it too well.
An hour later, as I cleaned the cookie trays for my next batch, my daughter’s witty banter continued. “What’s the similarity between a cookie and a computer? They both have chips,” she remarked. “Why can’t Cookie Monster make his bed? He lacks a cookie sheet!” she quipped. Honestly, does she brainstorm these comebacks late into the night?
There was a period when I shared my homemade delicacies with Gazette colleagues, a time when they greeted me warmly instead of bombarding me with critiques of my culinary skills. Nevertheless, I still relish baking cookies for my wife and myself. She adores me. One might say we’re a “batch” made in heaven (I’m beginning to sound like my daughter).
Soon, it will be time to bring out the red, white, and blue food coloring and commence baking cookies to commemorate Independence Day. Until then, I pledge to remain composed, savor a delectable cookie, and revel in life, free from my daughter’s sharp tongue. Ah, such is the sweet life. After all, life is what you bake — or rather, make — of it, isn’t it?