A box of Christmas cookies arrived in the mail today from Winnipeg. Wrapped in brown paper, I noticed the package sticking out of the mailbox as soon as we arrived home after our cold walk back from the girl's school. Once the many layers of clothing were removed we opened the box.
Shortbread with sprinkles stuck inside the compressions made by a fork. They made me think of my grandmother.
The girl ate one. The boy ate one. I ate one. The girl started arguing that she should be allowed to eat a second. I told her she could have another one after she ate her lunch. She agreed but still continued to try to open the zip lock bag. This is hard to open she said. That's the point I thought.
Half the cookies are already eaten and the husband isn't even home yet. I don't think they will last until tomorrow.