After doing at least a dozen pale faced cookies I look over at my chocolate icing and decide to diversify my choir of angels. My daughter peers down at what I’m doing and gasps, “Mommy! That is SO RACIST” I am surprised by her statement. I look over to Fellow and the Boy for support and they both nod towards Nora in agreement, “Wellll….”.
Sigh.
They look like white angels in black face. I see what Nora means.
But I insist my intentions are pure and I continue to paint in their singy songy O mouths with glee.
Nora jams as many mini M&Ms onto her cookies with layers and layers of icing, not quite at that age where she realizes “less is more”. One of her snow people she makes pregnant with a bunch of candies, slathering another cookie and gobs of icing over the belly. Then she looks up with doubt, “This might be ugly, Mommy. Do you think anyone will eat it?” I assure her that any child would love it. One of the children, firmly established as the main artist in the house, is doing fine meticulous work. The cookies have panache, they have wit. The colour combinations are stellar. This child looks over at Fellow and is genuinely shocked that Fellow is swirling marvellous blobs onto a magnificent yellow butterfly. “That’s…that’s REALLY good!”
Nice when a parent can surpass the expectations of a child.
I look down at my angel choir of colour with their hands in the air, full of joy, and I love them. I think they are the best Christmas cookies I have ever done. How the world is changing. When I was a child, no Dad was ever in the kitchen icing cookies with the kids. And we were adding “nigger toe” candies to our cookies without even realizing what we were saying.
The kids valiantly ice four dozen cookies and eventually they have to go to bed. At eleven o’ clock at night, Fellow and I are quietly icing the last dozen together in order to get them into the freezer and finally clean the icing off the kitchen table: blobs that have hardened like cement. He spins out a fabulous couple of turtle doves, a tree with garlands and several sparkly stars. I look at him with tenderness. Me and my angels sing.
