Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Her bitterness is not well received by her mother, “Jaye.”
“Sweetheart, I know today hasn’t gone exactly like it usually does-”
“It hasn’t gone at all like it usually does,” she huffs, abandoning the decorating utensil on a casual toss. “You have spent more time with your phone than your family!” All of sudden, a new level of disgust crosses her face. “Ohmygod, I can’t believe those are words that I just had to say.” She shakes her head increased disbelief. “To you of all people.”
“Sweetheart-”
“Mom,” Henz innocently injects, “you have cookie on your forehead.”
“Jaye, why don’t you go upstairs and wash your face?” Maggie politely suggests. “Take a minute for yourself. I’ll help keep an eye on the cookies while Archer focuses on the girls.”
My wife releases an exasperated sigh before surrendering. “Thanks, Mom. Glad to have some help in my life.”
Watching Jaye angrily storm off tempts me into going after her, yet my mother-in-law quietly protests, “Leave it be for a bit.”
I cut my gaze to where she’s now lifting hers.
“Treat her like those snowman cookies over there,” she casually points on a crooked smirk. “Let her cool off.”
As much as it pains me, I nod, knowing she’s right.
That the best way to treat the elephant at this time is to not take a bite.
To just…give it space.
Otherwise…it could very well trample me to death.
“Can I have a snowman cookie?” Henz sweetly asks, tiny frame wiggling back and forth for additional cuteness.
I allow a smile to slip back onto my face and present her with it. “And who are the snowman cookies for every year?”
“They’re for people that don’t have homes,” Rainne reminds in a snarky fashion.
“Like Jedd?!” Henz gasps as a realization hits her. “Can we save Jedd a snowman cookie?!”
“Ohhhhh,” her sister immediately nods, abandoning her previous holier than thou attitude. “Can we?! Can we?!”
The knot that I had stuffed down shoots back up forcing my response to come out choked. “Sure.”
Excited squeaks escape them both prior to them rushing over to debate on which cookie they should bring him.
Fuck. Me. I really need to find him. Problem is…I can’t exactly do that and spend time with my family like I should. Talk about being stuck between a log and a hard place.
Once the girls agree on the “right” cookie, Maggie puts it aside for “safe keeping”, promising to guard it with her life. Afterward, the three of us check out the new, fancy reindeer feeder Charles is constructing and invite him to join us for the next project. He assures he’ll be in soon, so we relocate ourselves to the formal dining room area that’s anything but especially during the holidays. While the space was originally intended for hosting fancy get-togethers, that changed when I moved in all those years ago. We ditched the expensive, never ate at dining set and purchased something more inviting. And friendlier. Something our future children would feel comfortable making a mess on. Eventually, it turned into an eating territory that could double as a messy learning space.
We embrace messes in this house.
Which did require us to book more frequent visitors from the latest housekeeping service we use. Pretty sure we may be her only clients now. I blame Henz’s determination to glue gems on everything. Just in case you’re wondering it is not fun to find pink rhinestones glued onto your best pair of dress shoes nor is it fun to have to scrape them off of the outdoor grill because she decided the squirrels needed something pretty to look at while she’s at school.
Collecting the materials for the magical reindeer food project momentarily distracts me from everything else going wrong in my life. Setting up bowls of raw oats, brightly colored sprinkles, glitter shakers, gift bags, and ribbons is a timely task that the girls are beyond thrilled to help with. They happily list the people they feel we need to deliver reindeer food to yet argue over which color should be used for our own home.
Refereeing their asinine argument isn’t the obnoxious chore it would appear to be.
I love listening to them debate.
Discuss.
Try to understand what the other is saying.
There’s no name calling or ugly words spouted.
No.
Just two young minds on the same road making different discoveries.
Deciding on different likes.
Dislikes.
Fuck, it’s such a magical thing to watch them grow into people.
Around the time we’ve all got our first bags in hand to begin, Charles joins the fun. He assists one child while I handle the other, grabbing clumps of treats to create a fun, messy mixture. Just as it’s time to tie bags, Maggie enters the room for her favorite part.
Ribbon tying.
The woman swears that she missed her true calling in life to do it professionally.
Our strange and flowing assembly line is executed around holiday music, giggles, and sips of hot cocoa brought in by my wife who insists that she’s now fine.