Many (many, many, many) years ago, I was in kindergarten. It was Christmas time, and the teacher had us all make cookie ornaments.
I vaguely remember doing this. The one part of it that sticks out in my mind is that the cookies were made using (mostly) edible ingredients- the things that mothers use to make real cookies that you can eat. So, there I was, all of 5 years old, making a cookie, using a cookie cutter, and then being slightly disappointed when I found out that we could not eat these cookies.
(Bah, humbug says my 5 year old self.)
But then, after the cookies were baked, the teacher brought out the paints. And we got to paint these non-edible cookie ornaments. Which, to my 5 year old mind, was second only to eating these cookies that we made.
After it was dry, it was put in a little bag, and I got to take it home to Mom, who oooed and ahhed over it and then hung it on the tree. Every year after that, we would bring out the cookie ornament and hang it on the tree. It was my cookie ornament, and I liked it.
Then, one year not too long ago, mom announced that it was time to retire the cookie.
And my twenty something year old self cried a little inside. It was my cookie ornament. I tried to plead with her- it was a tradition! Every tree needs a cookie ornament! She was ruining my childhood!
She didn’t buy it.
So, away went the bright red cookie ornament that wouldn’t crumble. To this day, Mom’s tree just isn’t the same without a twenty something year old cookie on it.
Today, my eight year old son, the one who acts like a Daddy’s boy but is, in reality, a Mommy’s boy, who has already given me an Ariel pin to wear on my badge at work, and a Santa ornament for the tree, and homemade scented pinecones that I can actually put out without getting a migraine, made me a cookie ornament of my very own.
I hope that this cookie ornament lasts as long as mine did for my mom.