Yo Diane! We went to a swim meet last night. All around me were mothers with their Christmas cards and lists, writing , working away. I of course, had brought nothing constructive to do and had to sit there thinking about possums. Yesterday I went Christmas shopping for four hours. I HATE shopping. I bought one small gift, and that grudgingly.
We got our first Christmas letter this week, a great one packed full of grammatical errors. That was a bright spot. Tuesday night Dan and I went out and when we got home at 9:30, there was a lumpy mass of something on the counter. "What is this?" I said.
"Don't touch it," Dan warned, "It might be a Science experiment."
"No-it smells a little like coconut."
CW walked in. "I made cookies for French class," he said.
We looked at the amorphous lump, wondering what we could say tactful.
"I made three batches. The first two didn't come out real well."
(My God. What did the first two look like?)
"What kind did you make?" I asked.
"Guess!" (Oh , right)
"Honey, these are going to be hard to divide. They're all stuck together."
"Yeah, they were a little soggy in the middle, but the bottoms were black so I had to take them out of the oven."
It turns out he'd misread the directions and baked them at 450.
Oddly enough, he had chosen Swedish Christmas cookies to make for French class. They use a pound of real butter per recipe. He had to go back to the store twice for more butter. Luckily there was enough left for me to get up at 5 yeserday and make a new batch for him. I think he thought they'd miraculouly firmed up and healed themselves overnight.
Let him. We all need Christmas miracles to get us through the season. |
