My family has always been particular about traditions. We have a special family hug, a song we sing when someone does something silly without thinking (like that time my sister, Jamie, put a hard boiled egg in the microwave not once, but twice …), and so many holiday traditions. I can proudly say that, at the ripe age of 34, I’ll still be looking for my Easter basket this year.
One of our absolute favorite traditions is Cookie Day. (It used to be father-daughter Black Friday Shopping Day, but somehow Dad has gotten out of that one the past few years.)
It took a bit of convincing, but eventually Dad talked us into a day of family baking around Christmas. He gathers all of the supplies, and we all show up with our mixers, recipes and smiles.
The morning starts somewhere around 9 with Dad’s famous $4 breakfast, followed by a day of baking an array of holiday cookies until we either get hungry again or can no longer read the recipes. Regulars include Italian cookies, snowballs, peanut blossoms and seven-layer bars, and Jamie assembles matching recipe binders for us.
Although it may seem like we have everything down to a science, we’ve had our goofs. Like the time we were making biscotti and Jamie and I both put sugar into the batter. We thought we could salvage it by doubling everything else too. We were wrong—the batter turned into a goopy mess. Much to our mom’s disdain, we had to throw out the entire batch! Luckily, Jamie’s college roommate, Darlene, is always there to keep us all organized.
Over the years, Cookie Day has become less about the cookies and more about the time we spend together. One year, our aunt came and taught us all how to make lady locks, and now my niece, Charlotte, is old enough to help us ice and decorate. We’ve expanded to three generations so there are many more years of Cookie Day to come.
