Twas the night before Christmas
The year twenty twenty
Our oven was preheating
For cookies a plenty.
Snickerdoodles for Santa
Is what we were making
They were all on cookie sheets
Ready for baking
When all of a sudden
It became clear to me
The oven wasn’t hot!
Nor warm! Oh, F♪μ¢« me!
My six year old daughter
Started to question
“What had happened?”
The answer: a broken ignition.
“What will we do now?”
Her words bounced round my head
“I’ll figure something out,
but you need to get to bed.”
Her dad put her to bed
And he offered his aid
“I think I can do this.”
At least that’s what I said.
After some MMJ
To dull pre-Christmas pain
I got out a small skillet
And felt slightly insane
I lit up the stove top
I put on one cookie
I guessed at the heat
I never stopped looking
Some came out burnt
Most of them broken
But all of them cooked
I am not joking
They’re crunchy and ugly
But Santa won’t care
‘Cause they’re also delicious
To that much I’ll swear!
This year has been full of things going so awry that if you can remove yourself from it enough; it’s hilarious. Like writing a blog post in September about how horrible it is to encourage people to go places when they’re sick & there being a worldwide pandemic four months later that is continually exacerbated by people going places while they’re sick. This year has been an exercise in “Everything is Burning Down but I’m Going to Make it OK Because I Have a Child.” Which isn’t to say she’s being sheltered or lied to. It means frying cookies. It means making candy on Halloween because Trick-or-Treating is a bad idea. It means only letting her see me cry once every three times. It means her learning to be ok spending time alone (in a room, not like alone in the house) because we’re together 24/7 and I literally cannot & neither can my husband. It’s me trying to be ok when she gets good at spending time alone & doesn’t want to hangout with me.
So this thing with the cookies is harmless & innocuous but somehow still perfectly represents 2020. Especially since I tried: ungreased skillet, Pam, larger skillet, 3 different pancake turners (most people call them spatulas), lid, no lid, big cookie, little cookie, & a million different heat settings on two different burners.
In case you ever need to know: large skillet, with Pam, low flame on a large burner, small cookies, child-sized spatula, & a lid.
My husband decided to call them Fried Doodles. We’re going to have them every year to remember this year. Hopefully, we will be feeling grateful that we can gather together again. If not, we can celebrate ingenuity & still being alive.
Happy Holidays–Stay Safe–Make Responsible Choices
I Am Anne Bivalent 