BEST LAID PLANS often go awry, especially in a house that shelters a seven-year-old boy. Well, let it be said: a seven-year-old boy plus a forty-something man, plus me—the only one here with double-X chromosomes and plummeting estrogen levels. Sometimes the plan is for nothing other than a calm morning or evening, and yet . . . lines get crossed over breakfast, buttons get pushed at bedtime. Feelings get hurt, and everyone goes his or her own way—to work, school, or bed—mad or injured or both. Such has been the past week, and it sucks. It sucks whether you’ve played a key role in the dispute or whether you find yourself wearing the referee’s stripes.
Enter Emergency Cookies. Sometimes your little one needs them; sometimes you do.
Now, many people routinely keep a stash of goodies in their pantries, ready for random moments of need. But I want to be clear about something: true emergency cookies are not store-bought, preservative-laden gratification—that’s just empty eating. No, I’m talking about the ability to have, at a moment’s notice, a warm-from-the-oven, made-from-scratch-by-someone-who-loves-you cookie. A cookie whose aroma fills the house while it bakes and draws any injured parties (including yourself) out of the cocoon of self-pity or “you’re being mean to me!” or “it’s unfair” and back to those feelings of being cared for in the simplest, sweetest, and most archetypal-Mom way.
Hey, wait! Where’s the recipe for Emergency Cookies? Don’t worry, it’s only migrated to a new home on the Internet: www.acparker.com/blog