By the time you reach third grade, navigating your beliefs about Santa can be tricky. I, personally, always wondered why Santa seems to spoil the rich kids. But that was only after I would ponder how on Earth he got into my house. I didn't have a fireplace growing up and I don't have one now. Here is Scrappy's theory: He smells the cookies and knows where to go.
"Can we just leave him some Oreos?"
Oh, no no no. He wants gingerbread cookies. Luckily I've worked out the kinks to cookies that we cut into shapes--Scrappy has her work station, I have mine. That way we can work at our own paces and if she decided she really only want to decorate (and eat the decorations) so be it. I can still finish the batches in a timely manner.
Unfortunately for me, I haven't worked out the kinks with my icing bags and decorating tips. After mixing up way too much powdered sugar with water, I learned that this is possibly the worst frosting to load into a bag. It's not a frosting and will not act like a frosting. It's a glaze. Period. (Sad.)
Meanwhile, Scrappy was having a ball loading up individual cookies with as much decorative sugar as possible. LV simply raised his eyebrows when he saw them. My favorite "linguisticist" couldn't think of a way to describe them.
No comments:
Post a Comment