Back in January, we had this conversation about cookies.
Me: Younger Daughter, let’s make cookies tomorrow.
YD: No! We should not make cookies because Dad should not be eating cookies.
Husband: Besides, you don’t make the kind of cookies I like.
Me: What kind of cookies do you like?
Husband: You know the cookies at Ellen’s New Year’s Eve party? The ones with the gooey stuff inside? And then there were the cream-filled cookies.
[He is practically swooning, thinking about these cookies.]
Me: No, I don’t like cream-filled cookies.
Husband: See?! You like shortbread cookies, cut into shapes of who-knows-what. You like Puritan cookies. They are flat, like boards, and can be stacked, and they have no cream.
Me: But they are so buttery and delicious tasting! YD, let’s make cut-out cookies. We never got to make them at Christmas-time.
YD: We made an entire gingerbread house.
Me: Oh, yeah... How about pumpkin cookies? They are like cake.
Husband: Those are good. They ARE like cake.
YD: Dad should not be eating cake!