Beatrice Makes Christmas Cookies
Beatrice and her mom made Christmas cookies together one cold December morning.
It wasn’t fun for Beatrice. She would much rather have been getting her hands dirty by helping her father chop wood for the fireplace.
"Help me mix up a batch of Whoopie Pies then you can go outside," instructed her mom.
"I’ll never be a housewife." Beatrice said as she measured out a cup full of Hershey’s chocolate coca powder.
Her mom gave her a slight look of disappointment and wished her little girl would give up her dirt bike hobby and be more like the little girl that all mothers long to have.
The mother and daughter pair worked well together in the kitchen. Although she wasn’t a good cook, Beatrice was excellent at math and could measure proportions perfectly when following recipe directions.
Beatrice poured 16 ounces of ten X sugar into a glass bowl, along with a half up of Crisco shortening and one half cup of butter. She picked up her mother’s electric mixer like it was an electric air gun used for removing lug nuts from car axles and began whipping the ingredients together. She added three table spoons of milk and watched the stiff mixture turn fluffy right before her eyes.
The fluffy white frosting melted in Beatrice’s mouth. She put her finger with grease under her nails into the mixture and tasted her creation.
"Stop that Beatrice, your hands are dirty," demanded mom.
"No they are not, I washed them first. That’s just packed in crud mom, trust me, it’s not coming out from under my nails until I clean it out with a tooth pick!" replied Beatrice.
"Okay. You can go now. Go to the post office for me," requested her mother while handing her a key for the mailbox."And stay out of the pool hall, Beatrice. It’s not lady like for a girl to play pool better than the guys."
Beatrice looked upon her mother standing waist high in fields of white flour, fluffy frosting and chocolate cake like cookies and realized that the scene was just like a nativity scene.
Very tragic yet inspirational.
Beatrice wished her mom would toughen up a little and learn to live life. "There’s more to life than cooking, cleaning and washing clothes, mom," said Beatrice as she slid a sliding glass door and stepped outside into light fluffy December snow that looked just like her frosting.
It wasn’t fun for Beatrice. She would much rather have been getting her hands dirty by helping her father chop wood for the fireplace.
"Help me mix up a batch of Whoopie Pies then you can go outside," instructed her mom.
"I’ll never be a housewife." Beatrice said as she measured out a cup full of Hershey’s chocolate coca powder.
Her mom gave her a slight look of disappointment and wished her little girl would give up her dirt bike hobby and be more like the little girl that all mothers long to have.
The mother and daughter pair worked well together in the kitchen. Although she wasn’t a good cook, Beatrice was excellent at math and could measure proportions perfectly when following recipe directions.
Beatrice poured 16 ounces of ten X sugar into a glass bowl, along with a half up of Crisco shortening and one half cup of butter. She picked up her mother’s electric mixer like it was an electric air gun used for removing lug nuts from car axles and began whipping the ingredients together. She added three table spoons of milk and watched the stiff mixture turn fluffy right before her eyes.
The fluffy white frosting melted in Beatrice’s mouth. She put her finger with grease under her nails into the mixture and tasted her creation.
"Stop that Beatrice, your hands are dirty," demanded mom.
"No they are not, I washed them first. That’s just packed in crud mom, trust me, it’s not coming out from under my nails until I clean it out with a tooth pick!" replied Beatrice.
"Okay. You can go now. Go to the post office for me," requested her mother while handing her a key for the mailbox."And stay out of the pool hall, Beatrice. It’s not lady like for a girl to play pool better than the guys."
Beatrice looked upon her mother standing waist high in fields of white flour, fluffy frosting and chocolate cake like cookies and realized that the scene was just like a nativity scene.
Very tragic yet inspirational.
Beatrice wished her mom would toughen up a little and learn to live life. "There’s more to life than cooking, cleaning and washing clothes, mom," said Beatrice as she slid a sliding glass door and stepped outside into light fluffy December snow that looked just like her frosting.
posted by Charles George Taylor at
11:01 AM
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