Can We Talk 2

Cookie Making

         On Saturday, my great niece and nephews came to my house to make cookies. I had everything ready in advance, since I knew they had somewhere else to go for the afternoon. One table was set up with flour and a cutting board with roller pen. The dough was chilling in the refrigerator. The royal icing had just been made and sat on the kitchen counter. Cookie sheets were lined with parchment paper and sitting on top of the stove next to the table where cookie cutters in various shapes waited in the flour. The dining room table was lined with wax paper and cooling racks and many kinds of sprinkles for decorating.
         
         First order of business, everyone had to wash his or her hands. Then I set them to rolling the sticky dough and getting a feel for what was too much pressure on the dough. We lifted the cookies over to the pans and put in the preheated oven. When they were done, I handled the hot pans and moved them over to the racks. While one or two painted cookies, one would keep rolling and cutting. They moved finished ones over to plates to finish drying.

         My intention was that they would eat one or two each, take a few home, and share the rest with the kids group at my church. That didn't work. They did refrain from eating them up. However, each one insisted on keeping the ones he or she decorated. There was no sharing this year. I got out plastic containers for them to avoid smearing the icing that wasn't quite dry. They had to go to a soccer game. I didn't have time to argue, and I didn't want to be the Grinch. I had no cookies to take to church except a few not quite burned ones.

         It was a good project to have with kids under 12, but I still felt disappointed. I thought we had done a better job of teaching them the spirit of sharing. I I don't believe they hoarded the cookies for eating, but because they were pretty. They were their own little works of art, and they just couldn't part with them. Still even works of art are sometimes meant to be shared. I failed in the lesson of giving as its own reward. They only said thank you to me because their mother forced them.