Sugar and Spice

Yesterday J had to work all day.  Santa knows these things, and waited a day to come by our place.  While J gave his patients the gift of healthcare, Little One and I went out in the falling snow for some spoiling at my aunts house.  Little One got a doctor set, so that She could give all Her babies and teddies the gift of healthcare also, and we both got treated to good company and an amazing breakfast.
When we got home, we had another big treat, just us girlies.   
Do you know about my baking obsession? Odds are yes.  Odds are I have given most of you at least one or two cavities over time.  I don't know what to say. I need a 12-step cookie program.  It's a sickness.  Some people, when they get stressed, take a bath. Or go for a nice run. Or drink gin out of the bottle. Me? I bake.
Also, if I want to congratulate you, or sympathize with you, or thank you, or apologize to you....I bake.
Butter and sugar are my answer to everything. How perfect that the stress of impending holidays aggravates my affliction to the point that I had dozens and dozens (and dozens) of ready-made gifts for everyone this year!

This is not the worst addiction to have, I suppose.  Not the most unhealthy habit to role-model for my child.  But, it is rather hard on Little One.  Because although She can and does participate by measuring and pouring flours and baking powders, She can't help too much because She can't ever touch the stuff, let alone eat any. So She has to watch me spend all this time doing something that She doesn't get to be a part of.
Until yesterday.  Yesterday we broke out our aprons and an allergy-safe cookie recipe, and for the first time ever did something that I always loved doing with my mom.  We baked cookies, together.
Little One was ecstatic.  After all this sitting on the sidelines, She finally got to be part of the action.  She poured, She stirred, She made little ball-shaped lumps with Her hands.  She tasted! Everything!  The sugar, the raisins, the flour. The baking soda.  Whatever She could.  Because She could.
And at the end, for the first time, She got to perform a sacred childhood ritual.  She got to eat the dough off the beater*.  Heaven!

We got messy and poufed flour everywhere and had a blast.  And of course She got to eat the results of Her work. She could hardly believe Her luck. She kept saying, "This one, mommy, no-no Little One can't have.  No no make itchy momma!  This one my coo-kie! This yummy coo-kie!" 

But it wasn't just for Her. 
We also made our big holiday dinner to share when J got home, and afterward Little One got to choose a few of Her creations to put on the special plate to share with Santa.  She was so proud that She had helped make them Herself.
Which was the sweetest thing about them.