Sharing Joy entry from Jilli!
My dad makes really delicious chocolate chip cookies. This is not a metaphor; he really does. Some of my fondest memories from my childhood are from the nights that I stayed in the kitchen and “helped” him as he baked.
My mom, a high school teacher, spends most of her nights grading papers and muttering about her students. While I would be in the kitchen with my dad, hoping a little chocolate chip morsel would somehow find its way into my fingertips, my mom would be working at the table. As the last bit of dough was plopped onto the cookie sheet, I would eye the empty bowl and spoon. I can still hear my mother’s voice as she would peak up from her pile of papers. “Don’t you even think about eating that leftover cookie dough! It has raw egg in it; you’re going to get sick.” Logical. Rational. …
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