Friday December 24, 2010
Santa's Cookie PlateI only ever believed in the cookies
Growing up, I never believed in Santa Claus. I wish I could attribute this to my amazing powers of deduction or Holmesian sense of logic, but no. Rather, my parents told me the story of Santa as just that, a story. Like Cinderella or The Elves and the Shoemaker or something out of Narnia.
Hearing this tends to depress some people, like my folks robbed me of a sense of childhood magic or something, but I don’t feel that way. I loved the story of Santa, imagining his whole cozy set up at the North Pole, a workshop full of toys. I had plenty of holiday cheer growing up. Any sense that Christmas might have felt more magical if I’d have believed in Santa feels balanced by the absence of that crushing realization he didn’t, in fact, exist.
I totally withhold judgment as to whether one should or shouldn’t teach children about Santa. Since I never had him, I doubt I’ll teach my kids about him. We’ll probably play pretend, imagine we hear reindeer scampering across the rooftop, and without question, we’ll leave out a plate of cookies.
My brother and I always left out cookies for Santa, just as part of the tradition and fun of Christmas, with the understanding that my parents ate them. One year, before we’d grown old enough to lose our imagination, I suppose, my brother and I got to thinking: what if Santa did actually exist? Wonder if even my parents didn’t know, scientists didn’t know, no one knew, but he nevertheless went about his Yuletide work.
Of course, only Stella could take those assumptions and conclude, “What a jerk!” I decided if Santa did actually exist, then he was a world class creep. Spying on us. Judging us. Misleading us. He’d clearly convinced the adults he didn’t exist, but he didn’t even reward the wee little children who believed in him with a single real life visit. What a jerk face! I didn’t have the vocabulary I needed, at that time, to name call effectively. After years in the restaurant world, however, I can think of a few now…
So, anyhow, that year, my brother and I left out a plate of cookies drenched in salt. If Santa existed, whoo boy he had it coming!
The next morning, we found a scathing letter from Santa’s attorney resting by the hearth, next to a plate of crumbs.
So, to restore my good karma, may I suggest the following? Just in case Santa suffers from celiac disease, I’ve included a few gluten free options so you won’t remember this as the year you tried to kill Santa.
Merry, merry Christmas everyone!!
3 comments and counting
Dec 24, 2010 · 5:26 PM
Oh my gosh – your poor parents!
Merry Christmas! I wish I had more time to bake. The Molasses Ginger Cookies sound wonderful! I’d like to experiment more with those kinds of flours, too…
· Kaitlin · whisk-kid.blogspot.com
Dec 27, 2010 · 12:10 AM
My parents reminded me, after reading this, that it was not on that year alone that I conducted my Salting Santa experiment. I tried it at least twice. My brother claims no involvement. That’s not how I remembered it…