CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE

 

My mom started baking Christmas cookies the day after Thanksgiving.  We had an upstairs and once you reached the top step if you turned to the left there was a pantry.  And that’s where all the Christmas cookies were tucked away  

until Christmas. . . 

with strict orders for us 5 kids to - 

not go near the pantry.    

I’m pretty sure my mom knew every year that by Christmas each

jar would be half empty.   

But she 

Never. Said. A. Word. . . 

Each night as I crawled into bed I would wait for the house to get quiet -

and then. . . 

I would slip out of bed, find my way to the pantry in the dark and fill my hands with cookies. 

I still wonder, was I the only one raiding the cookie jars?  Because I also am pretty sure

I couldn’t eat 

that many cookies . . . 

all by myself. . . 

by Christmas. 

With 4 brothers, I’m guessing probably not.  But I do have to say, in all of my nighttime trips

to the pantry 

we never bumped into each other. . . 

And if they saw me - 

they -

never.  said.  a.  word. . . 

I’m also guessing that that was half the fun for my mother in filling those cookie jars with cookies that were covered in bright colored sprinkles, Christmas tree sugar cookies covered in green frosting, surrounded by jars of Scandinavian butter cookies, knowing that somewhere in the dark when all the lights were out and we believed her and my dad were fast asleep, there were five little pairs of feet silently creeping across the creaky upstairs floor.  And I’m pretty sure as she lay in the quiet of her bed she heard 

Every creak. . .