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After we finish opening all our gifts and enjoying Kookie’s Christmas concert, I head to the kitchen to scramble some eggs while Janna fries up the sausage.  Somehow, in the middle of all the chaos of opening presents, Kookie remembered to finish the apricot salad while we all took a short break from unwrapping our gifts.  But now, we need to finish the sweet potato casserole, so I put Kookie in charge of boiling the sweet potatoes until they’re soft.  He finishes draining them just as I’m serving up eggs and sausage.  Everyone congregates in the living room to eat our second breakfast.

Then it’s back to the kitchen to assemble the sweet potato casserole.  This time I bring my two youngest with me to help me. 

“Okay, guys.  We need to mash the sweet potatoes.  Who wants to pound them into the bottom of the pan?” I ask dramatically as I wield my metal potato masher.

“ME!” they both exclaim at once.

I laugh.  “Okay.  You can take turns.  The one who goes last can help me make the topping.”

“I want to help you make the topping!” Alastair hollers.

“Great!” I hand the masher to Abs.  “Come with me, Alastair.  We need to mix a half cup of brown sugar with a third cup of flour.  Then we’ll cut some grated butter into it before mixing in a half cup of pecans.”

Alastair measures out the flour and sugar before whisking them together.  Then, using my cheese grater – a handy trick I once read about in the newspaper – I shred two tablespoons of butter into the bowl.  Using a fork, he mashes it all together while I dice pecans.  I toss them in, and he mixes the final product together.

“Excellent!” I congratulate him.  “We’re all done!”

“It’s my turn to mash the sweet potatoes!”  He runs across the room with glee lighting up his face.  Until he looks into the pot.  “Abner!  You mashed them all!”  His face falls as a thundercloud comes to land on it.

Uh-oh.  Trouble in paradise.  I cross the kitchen to look into the pan.  The sweet potatoes are pretty mashed. 

“There’s still a few chunks,” I point out as I remove the masher from Abner’s hand.  I hold it out to Alastair.  “Can you smash them?”

He takes the masher and begins the violent work of destroying sweet potatoes.

“Come on, Abs.  We need to grab the ingredients for the casserole.  We need three tablespoons of butter.”  I hand him a stick of it.  “One egg,” which I liberate from its carton.  “A half cup of milk.”  I grab the gallon.  “A half cup of brown sugar.”  I pull the container out of the cupboard.  “And a teaspoon of vanilla.”  I snag the little bottle from the top shelf.

Together, we carry our ingredients over to the table.  I cut three tablespoons of butter into tiny cubes before adding them to the sweet potatoes.  Then Abs pours in the brown sugar.  I add the milk, vanilla, and egg.  Finally, Alastair mixes it all together.  I scrape it into a square glass pan. 

“We’ll sprinkle the topping on right before we bake it.  For now, it goes into the fridge.”

I sigh as I remember that I still have to make the scalloped potatoes.  Then I groan as I remember the rolls.  At least, the corn pudding is easy.

I decide to get started on the potatoes.  I need to thinly slice the three pounds of potatoes that the boys peeled for me.  That’s easily done.  I just send them through the slicer in my food processor.  But the four onions will have to be cut by hand. 

“Anyone want to slice four onions for me?” I stick my head into the living room and ask jokingly, knowing the exact response that I’m about to get.

“No way, Mom!  You know onions always make me cry!” Janna exclaims.

I sigh and conquer the task myself in about five minutes. 

“At least, come into the kitchen, so I can teach you how to make scalloped potatoes.”

“I don’t really care about making scalloped potatoes,” she grumbles as she drags herself into our kitchen just to humor me.

I ignore her and begin her instructions.  “We just run the potatoes through the slicing blade in the food processor.  Or you could slice them by hand.”  I demonstrate the use of the food processor.  “Then we put an inch of water and two teaspoons of salt at the bottom of a big pan.  Layer the onions on the bottom, then dump all the potatoes into the pot.  Cover it with a lid and boil it for five minutes.”

“Only five minutes?” she furrows her brow at me.

I nod.  “They’ll finish cooking in the oven.  I’m going to teach you how to make the sauce while they cook.  We just melt three tablespoons of butter in a small saucepan.”  I use the same one I used earlier to make the toffee.  Of course, it’s been washed in between.  “Then we stir in two tablespoons of flour and an eighth teaspoon of pepper.” 

She just stares at me.

“Can you do it?” I finally ask.

“What?”

“Dump in two tablespoons of flour and a little bit of pepper.”

“Oh.”  She reaches into the cupboard and liberates the flour container before grabbing a quarter-cup measure.  “I just fill it halfway for two tablespoons, right?”

I nod.  “Excellent!  Your math brain is shining right now!”

She grins lopsidedly at me as she scoops up some flour and dumps it into the pan.  I stir it until a white paste forms.

“Now, we just add the milk.”  She watches as I slowly whisk in two and a quarter cups of milk.  I cook this mixture over medium heat while constantly stirring it until it’s thick like gravy. 

The timer screams a warning suddenly.  Janna glances at me.  “Do you need me to do something?”

“Can you dump the potatoes and onions into the colander?  Then we need to make sure we lay some of both in the pan.”

She rescues the potatoes and onions from the hot water.  I begin to layer a third of them in the bottom of a big baking dish.  Then I pour a third of the white sauce over the potatoes and onions in my dish.  I chop up two tablespoons of fresh parsley and sprinkle two teaspoons over the sauce on the first layer.  I repeat this process twice.  Finally, the scalloped potatoes are oven-ready.  I cover them with plastic wrap and store them in the fridge. 

Now, I’m down to two dishes.  The rolls and the corn pudding.

“Who wants to help me make the rolls?” I ask. 

Silence greets me. 

“Everett, come here.  It’s time for a lesson in making my grandmother’s rolls.” 

I have to go hunt him down, for he does not appear.  Can you imagine this?  Ignoring his mom on Christmas Day.  He’s probably off playing the new game for his Switch.  I wander down to the twins’ bedroom and push the door open.

Sure enough.  Everett is eyeball-deep in some new game.  I can’t even remember the name of it.  I’ve never had much use for video games.  I’d rather be reading a book.  Or writing one.

“Everett, come make some rolls with me.”

Grumbling is my only answer.

“Mom, I’ll help you,” I hear a soft voice reply from the bed next to Everett.

I smile at Kookie.  “Will you?  Thank you.”

He follows me to the kitchen.

“If I help you, that means I get to eat five rolls, right?” he queries with a twinkle in his eye. 

How can I resist that darling gleam?

“Absolutely.  I’m probably going to eat three myself.  I usually do.  And you’re a growing boy.  I’m sure you need five rolls.” I grin at him.

He laughs.  “You’re the best, Mom.”

“You only think that because I feed you.”

“Yes, well, teenage boys can be bought, you know.”  He wipes his face clean of all expression.  Then his grin bursts forth.  “With food!”

“Ah, well I know it.  Apparently, Everett hasn’t quite reached that stage yet.”

“Oh, sometimes he has.  You just have to catch him at the right moment.”

“I guess this is not it.  I get it.  I’m tired of being in this kitchen too.  But I want those rolls!” I announce fiercely.

Kookie puts his game face on.  “Me too!  So, what’s the first step?”

“To heat the water.”

“Water?”

“A third cup of water with one tablespoon sugar.  We have to heat it to about one hundred five degrees.”

“Exactly?” he frowns.

“No.  Between one hundred and one hundred ten, to be precise.”

“Ah, okay.”  He combines the water and sugar and pops them into the microwave.  “How long?”

“Mmm.  Fifteen to thirty seconds, maybe?”

He figures it out while I measure out half an ounce of yeast into a bowl.  “Just pour the warm water over the yeast here.  Then mix it up with a fork.  It has to proof for five minutes.  Now we have to warm a cup of milk in a saucepan.  Then we add a stick of melted butter, half a cup of sugar, and one teaspoon of salt.  We heat it all while we mix it together.”

“Why do we heat it?”

“I have no idea.  The original recipe actually said to scald the milk.”

“Why on earth would you scald the milk?”

“Once again, I don’t know.  So, I just warm it all up.  But not too hot.  I don’t want to cook the eggs when we pour it into the mixer bowl with them in a minute.  I don’t know if the goal is to dissolve the sugar…?  It’s always been a mystery to me.  The way I make them works just fine, so whatever the original intent was doesn’t seem to matter.  Kookie, can you crack three eggs into the big mixing bowl?”

A couple of minutes later, I pour the buttery milk into the bowl slowly as I let the paddle run, beating the eggs.  Fairly soon, all these ingredients have been beaten together.

“Now what?” Kookie asks as he eyes the nearly overflowing bowl of proofed yeast.  “That looks like it’s about to bubble over.”

“Yeah, we need to move quickly.  Add two cups of flour to the bowl while I let it beat on low.  Once that’s incorporated, we add the yeast and let it mix for five minutes.”

“Ah, we get a tiny break, huh?”

“Yeah, to do the dishes,” I smirk at him.

He chuckles.  “Of course.  There’s always time for cleanup.”

While he takes care of the dough, I prepare the ham and pop it into the oven. 

After the flour and yeast are incorporated, Kookie adds three more cups of flour, one cup at a time, until it’s completely mixed into our dough.

“We’re done,” I announce.  “Now we just scrape it into a greased bowl, cover it with greased plastic wrap, and let it rise for an hour.  Thank you, Kookie, for your help.  Now I can actually relax for a while.”

“What about the pies?”

“Ugh.  I forgot about the pies.  How about we make one a day for the next three days?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he flashes his cute grin at me.

“Kookie, I wish we’d bought a frozen pie.  Then we could just pop it into the oven.”

“Mom.”  There’s an odd quality to his voice.  I meet his gaze.  “Do you remember when I went back to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things for you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, I made two extra purchases.”

Furrowing my brow, I query, “You did?”

“Yep.  I bought two frozen pies.  Dutch apple and cherry.”

“Kookie, I could kiss you!  Thank you!”

“We’ll make the homemade pies some other day.  When we’re not cooking enough food for an army,” he responds. 

But what I hear is Jungkook saying, “When we’re not cooking enough food for ARMY.”

A chuckle escapes me.  “Sounds like a plan.  This means I can go sit down again.”  Which is great.  My feet are barking at me right now.

“Go on, Mom.  I’ll do the dishes once I finish the rolls.  Then I’m going to beat Everett at Rocket League.”

“Rocket League!  Why couldn’t I remember that?”

“Because you don’t care about video games, Mom,” Kookie snickers.

“Is that okay?  That I don’t care about video games?”

“What do you mean?”  Now he’s the one with the wrinkled forehead.

“Don’t you want me to care about what you care about?”

“You do, Mom.  You care about the important things.”

“Like what?”

“Food.”  He grins.  “And Emmie.”

The corners of my lips quirk upward.  “Speaking of Emmie…”

“Mom.”  His voice sounds stern.

“What?”  My forehead crumples as I stare at him.

“I am not discussing my first kiss with you.”

I begin to chuckle.  “Fair enough.”  I clear my throat.  “Just…be careful where the rest of your kisses take place.”

His gaze spears mine.  For a moment, we lock eyes as I try to communicate telepathically with him.  Or better yet, heart to heart.

“I hear you, Mom.  I’ll be careful.”  He flashes that adorable grin at me once more before heading for the sink.

––

An hour later, I meet Kookie in the kitchen again.  It’s time to roll out the dough.  I pull the plastic wrap off the top of the bowl as I begin to instruct him.

“Now we divide our dough in half and roll out each half into a huge circle, as wide as we can.  But not much thinner than a quarter of an inch.  Then we cut the circle into four quarters, and each quarter into three wedges.  Finally, we roll them up to look like a crescent roll.”

“Then we put them on greased cookie sheets and let them rise for an hour?” Kookie asks me.

“Yep.  Then we bake them for ten minutes in a three hundred seventy-fifty-degree oven.”

“Whoa, Mom.  I’m not going to remember that an hour from now.”

“It’s okay.  You can look at the recipe card.  Actually, you have to heat the oven up to four hundred twenty-five degrees first.  Then lower the temperature before you put them into the oven.”

“Why?”

“Again, I have no idea.”  I grin at him as, shaking his head, he laughs at me.   “All I know is that following that rule makes them bake right.  And we get really good rolls at the end of it.”

“Man, I want to eat them now.  Do we really have to wait an hour to bake them?”

“At least.”

Kookie groans.  “Okay.  Then I had best get to work rolling them out, so we can eat soon!”  After a pause, he admits, “I never realized how much work goes into all this delicious food you make, Mom.”

I smile at him, and he meets my eye.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“For what?”

“For always taking such good care of us.”

Yep, that’s my heart, that big puddle in the middle of my kitchen floor.  I’m gonna have to mop now.

––

Half an hour later, I invite Alastair and Abner out to the kitchen.  “I’m going to teach you how to make corn pudding.  It’s super easy.”

“And super delicious?” asks Alastair.

I grin at him.  “And super delicious.”  I pull out my recipe.  “Can you guys go get a can of whole kernel corn and a can of creamed corn?  And a box of Jiffy corn muffin mix?”

As they run downstairs, I pull a stick of butter and the carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“Still working, Mom?” comes a soft, deep voice from behind the refrigerator door.

I smile to myself.  I am still relishing having Jungkook as a son.

I shut the fridge door and grin at him.  “Yep.  A mom’s job is never done.”

“Well, at least, not until we all move out.”

“Nah.  By then, I’ll be a grandma.  My new job will have started.”

He chuckles.  “Oh, yeah.  I should have thought of that.  So, when Emmie and I have kids, we can just drop them off here and let you raise them?”

“Sure, son.  Sounds like a plan.  I’ll fill them full of sugar and send them back to you on the weekends.”

The little twins come running into the room bearing gifts of canned corn and muffin mix.

“So, what do we do, Mommy?” Alastair asks me.

“First, we have to melt six tablespoons of butter.  Would you like that job?”

“Yes!”

I hand him the stick of butter.

“What can I do, Mommy?” Abs gazes up at me with wide blue eyes.

“Can you open the two cans of corn and dump them into,” I yank a big metal bowl from the lazy Susan, “this bowl?”

He bobs his head up and down and grabs the bowl before carrying the cans of corn over to our can opener.  A couple of minutes later, I encourage Alastair to stir the melted butter into the corn.  Then I crack two eggs into the bowl.  Abs whisks the eggs into the mixture.  Finally, I fold the corn muffin mix into the other ingredients.

“Now, we just dump it into a greased nine-inch-by-nine-inch pan and bake it for one hour at three hundred fifty degrees.”

“That’s all?  We’re done?” Alastair asks in surprise.

“Yep.  I told you it was easy.”

“That was beyond easy, Mommy.”

I smile at him as I spray a pan and pour our corn pudding mix into it before popping it into the oven.  I check the ham.  It’s done.  I remove it and put the extra rack back into the oven before turning towards Kookie.

“Sweetheart, can you get me the scalloped potatoes, broccoli casserole, and sweet potatoes out of the fridge?”

He begins to hand them to me.  I pop them all into the oven and sigh with satisfaction as I close the door.  “We’re almost done and within the hour, we’ll be eating all this scrumptious food!”

I’m now surrounded by happy boys.

“I’m so hungry!” hollers Abs suddenly.

My stomach growls.  Loudly.  “As am I,” I respond as all of us burst out laughing.  “Hang in there, guys.  We’re almost there.  And once the rolls come out of the oven, I can put the pies in.  Thanks to Kookie.  He saved dessert.”

“Hardly,” he mutters dryly.  “Christmas cookies, gingerbread men, buckeyes, fudge, pecan balls….  Am I missing anything?  You definitely made enough sweets for Christmas, Mom.”

“We made enough sweets for Christmas,” I smile at him.  “I didn’t do any of that by myself.  Not this year.  I rather like having a small army to help me.”

“And I like helping you, Mommy!” Abs announces with sweet passion as he beams up at me.

I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug as I look up at Kookie.  One of these days, Abner will be as big as my eldest son.  I sigh and relish the moment.  With all of them.  This has definitely been a Christmas to remember.