Oooh, how much I love Christmas time! Of course, there is always those wonderful goodies that come along and add to the spirit of Christmas. Besides the music, service, giving, and loving that is always found, there must always be some form of sugar. It's an absolute necessity!
So, after creating all of our magical desserts, we are left to sort out them each into equal plates to give away to friends and family. Here I am, in the kitchen, Christmas Eve morning, with an audience of children to make sure I am completing each proportion with perfect accuracy.
They stare down each slice of fudge, gaze sternly at the handfuls of popcorn being placed, glance to make sure the pretzel sticks are properly aligned, and watch carefully the amount of Baklava I put on each plate or tin. All the while, of course, looking for an opportunity to sneak something in such inconspicuousness so that I, nor any of the lookers-on can tell anything has gone missing.
Such was this morning's activities, until Tyson (the older brother who has all power) shoos them all out of the kitchen. The ironic thing? He was scooping up fudge leftovers after all of them were sufficiently frightened enough and had run quickly away. I have no room to complain, as I can't help it if a few crumbs drop onto the counter. What is a girl to do? The tragedy! I had to fulfill my natural responsibility for the environment in cleaning every last piece. They just happened to fall into my mouth...
Well, Tyson hadn't quite shooed every last child out; we had a straggler. I was busy cutting more fudge, and Tyson was looking for something productive to do in the kitchen when I noticed Elias sitting innocently at the bar, a tin of soft fudge in front of him. I should have done something about it, but I felt he had been warned plenty, and he wouldn't dare.
He did.
I looked up to see my tiny brother's face stuck in the first layer of fudge, kissing it with quite a smack. I couldn't help it; I burst out in streams of laughter while Tyson asked "What's up? What's wrong?"
All I could do was point then double-over because my sides hurt so much from laughing. "He's kissing the fudge!" I cried, giggling.
Needless to say, we did not give that batch away.
Haley,
ReplyDeleteI realize you are a girl and they are a little wierd. but if you thought it was a tragedy that some fudge fell on a nice clean kitchen counter, and debated on whether or not to eat it, don't go to scout camp.