Today was the day. I spent about 8 hours baking Christmas cookies. Chocolate covered pretzel cookies. Chocolate peppermint cookies. Mounds cookies. Peanut butter kiss cookies. Vanilla oatmeal cup cookies with white chocolate and cranberry filling. Peanut butter cookie cups with chocolate filling. Oatmeal cookies. Caramel pretzel "turtle" mounds. Then, after spending an hour cleaning up, my favorite 18-year-old came downstairs so I could teach her how to make gourmet hand-dipped pretzels.
I'll be the first to admit, after baking for that many hours and doing housework and cleaning the Christmas cookie mess, I was worn out. Tired. My lower back was in excruciating pain. The thought of having to make hand dipped pretzels seemed more like a chore to me.
However, I cracked open a bottle of wine, put on some tunes, took some Ibuprofen, and thought long and hard about the many times in my life, when I was much younger, that an adult took the time to teach me how to make some sort of Christmas confection.
I remembered the amount of patience they extended. How tired they probably were. And, how much it meant to me that they took the time out of their day to give me their undivided attention. To teach me a skill that I would utilize for the rest of my life.
After cleaning up, I got everything prepared. At 3:30 sharp, she showed up. Prior to making the hand-dipped pretzels, she wrapped the Christmas gifts she had purchased for her Mom. I knew she rushed through that activity a bit because she was excited about working with chocolate and candy.
We. Had. A Blast.
Seriously, we did.
In those 2 hours, we talked. Her mood shifted from distraught to happy and confident. My mood shifted from exhausted to enlightened.
I was proud of her. I was proud of me.
The hand dipped pretzels came out fabulous!
I'm thinking that from this point on, my hand-dipped-chocolate-Christmas-confections will include this animated and unique young lady.
A new Christmas tradition?
Yes.
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