I said, "Let's go make cookies."
She said, "Penguins?"
I said, "Cookies."
My plan for the afternoon was simple. Bake up a couple batches of shortbread. Since we spend the holidays with both of our families, I don't do a lot of Christmas baking. We get lots when we go home and I always do some for our annual Book Party. But some shortbread is always done. And it seemed like something simple and easy to do with Kilmeny 'helping'.
But she was still stuck on the penguin. And right there, I had a choice. To actually put into practice what I've theorized about over the years, that sometimes saying 'no' is more for the mum's convenience rather then something that is actually forbidden.
I said yes. I made her a penguin.
I smooshed some cream cheese into an olive, placed it on a slice of carrot, put some carrot into another olive and stuck the whole thing together with a toothpick.
It was totally worth it. And totally adorable.
She thought it was oh so cute and the look of delight on her face when I let her have it at her little table on a real, grown-up plate was priceless.
It's those little things that build memories. My girls are too young to build gingerbread houses with me and we don't decorate sugar cookies together yet or cut out glittery snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. And what I think would make a great memory might not mean the same to them.
Kilmeny might not remember me making her a little penguin but I will. And hopefully it will help me remember to say yes and choose to seize the moment and make a memory.
Here is our traditional shortbread recipe. I did make this up yesterday after the penguin was made and eaten. The shortbread pairs very nicely with an eggnog latte, candles, and Michael Buble's Christmas album. If you wanted a recommendation.
Melting Moments Shortbread
1/2 c cornstarch 1 c. flour
1/2 c icing sugar 3/4 c butter
Mix together, form into balls, flatten if desired. Put tidbit of maraschino cherry or gumdrop on for colour if desired. Bake at 350 for 10 minute or until just golden brown.