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“Mom?  Are you baking again?” Kookie queries as he steps into the kitchen.

“Yep.”

“Don’t you think you’ve earned a break?”

“Not today, Kookie.  I promised your brother a Dutch apple pie.”

“Which brother?”

“Everett.  He called two girls on the telephone.”

“Let me get this straight.  You’re rewarding Everett with a Dutch apple pie for calling not one – but two – girls on the phone.”

“Mm-hmm,” I nod.  “That’s right.”

“Um, Mom, you might want to teach him to be a one-girl kind of guy.”

I burst out laughing.  “Kookie, one girl is for him, and one is for Noel.”

Kookie just stares at me.  He doesn’t know how to respond to my reply.

Chuckling, I explain, “The reward is for making the phone calls.  It was the first time Everett has ever called a friend on the phone.  And he had to brave the scary waters of talking to the mother of one girl and the big brother of the other.”

“Ah,” Kookie’s face glows with his sudden enlightenment, “I am beginning to understand.”  He looks at me funny.  “For a moment there, I was kinda worried about you.  Wondered if you’d overworked yourself during the holidays.”

Snickering, I shake my head.  “Should I make one pie or two?”

“For tonight?”

“For this afternoon.  I figured we can have pie while we open our stockings.”

“Hmm.  Still, two.”  He tilts his head as he looks at me for a moment.  “How many people are coming tonight?”

“Well, there’s the seven of us, of course.  Emmie and Noel.  Lyric, Harmony, and Melody.  I think Jimmy and Yoon are coming too.  And two of Everett’s friends, Allie and Noelle.”

“Wait.  Noelle?”

I nod at him as I bite my lip in an effort not to laugh.

“Don’t tell me.  Noelle is the one Noel has a crush on, right?”

I fail.  The giggles burst forth.  “Yep, you called it!”

He shakes his head.  “Unbelievable.”  Then, “Jimmy’s coming?”

“Yeah.  His mom is doing much better.”

“Good.”  He catches my eye.  “How many apples should I peel?”

“You’re going to help me?”

“Of course, Mom.  Then I get three pieces of pie, right?”

“Um.  Two.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“You better believe it.”

I grin at him, and the flash of his white teeth embraces me.

––

“All right, Mom, I’ve peeled twelve large apples.  What’s next?”

“Use the food processor to slice them.”

He glances at it.  “That thing is pretty handy, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.  In fact, I need to use it first.  I like to make my own pie crust using butter.  I’m going to toss two cups of flour and two-thirds a cup of butter into there.  Then, I’ll pulse it until the butter is chopped into tiny bits.”  

Also adding a dash of salt, I demonstrate this process, finally adding a third cup of ice water in a steady, slow stream through the opening in the top.  I leave the food processor on while I add the water.  It is instantaneously combined with the flour and butter.  Soon a ball of dough starts to form.  Once it’s thoroughly combined, I stop it and pull the dough out. 

“Now I’m going to divide this into two balls and roll them each out to form the bottom crust of our two pies.  I need to make the Dutch apple topping too.” 

I use pretty much the same process, but this time I combine twelve tablespoons of butter, a cup and a half of flour, a cup of sugar, and three tablespoons of ice water.  Again, the water is the last thing I add.  But this time, I don’t pulse it for very long.  I want the topping to remain crumbly.  No solid mass.

Once Kookie has the apples sliced, he dumps them into a huge bowl. 

“Grab a little metal bowl, Kookie.  You need to put a cup of sugar and two-thirds of a cup of flour into the bowl.  I’m adding a teaspoon of nutmeg as well as a teaspoon of cinnamon.  Oh!  And a dash of salt.  Now whisk it all together.  Pour it over the apples and mix them until they’re all coated with it.”

After he finishes combining the apples with their spices, I direct him to divide them evenly between the two crusts with which I’ve lined our pie plates.  Then we sprinkle the Dutch apple topping over them before setting the pie plates on top of a foil-lined cookie sheet to catch any spills.  The spills are the best part.  We get to eat a bit of apple pie early when there are spills.

“I preheated the oven to four hundred fifty degrees,” I inform him.  “We bake the pies for fifteen minutes at that temperature before turning the oven down to three hundred seventy-five for another forty-five minutes.”

Kookie looks at me quizzically.

“I know,” I respond, “but this time I have an answer.  In order for the pies to bake right, the oven needs to be hotter initially.  But we don’t want to burn the crust, so we turn it down after a few minutes.”

He shrugs.  “Okay. As long as we end up with two delicious pies, I don’t care what the instructions are.”

I slide the pies into the oven and set the timer.  I’m excited.  This is one of my absolute favorite kinds of pie.  I cross the room and collapse into a chair.

“Kookie, we still have to get all the food ready for tonight,” I moan.  “And I let your brothers talk me into making homemade pizza for dinner.”

“What on earth did you do that for?”

“I don’t know.  I’m beginning to question my sanity too.  On the plus side, all I have to do is make the dough.  Everyone is going to roll out their own crust and make their own pizza.”

“Oh, well, that’s not so bad then.  Most of the party food is already ready to go, isn’t it?  I bought a lot of chips and dips, and we’re making loaded nachos, right?  Emmie and I can do that.”

He glances towards the fridge.  “I picked up the pre-sliced cheese and summer sausage.  And some crackers.  So, all we have to do is put everything out on plates.  All of us can do that.  You shouldn’t have to lift a finger.  I bought several two liters of soda to drink. 

“Your only part was the dessert,” he continues.  “But you already made it all.  It’s in the freezer.”

“Wow.  When did my life get so easy?”

“Easy?” he snickers.  “It’s just that you did all the work earlier in the week, Mom.”

“And I have a wonderful son who did all the shopping and food prep for me,” I beam up at him.

He comes to stand behind my chair and begins to rub my shoulders.  I groan as I pillow my head over my crossed arms on the tabletop.  “That feels wonderful.  But, Kookie, when do you get to be a kid?”

“From seven to midnight tonight while I’m goofing off with my friends.  Oh!  That reminds me.  Where’s the caramel corn we made the other day?  I was going to put out a big bowl of that too.  See?  We’re all set for party food.”

“I guess you are.  That’s wonderful.  I might actually get a nap this afternoon.  The caramel corn is in that cabinet right there.  I was hiding it from your brothers.”  I point across the room.

“And from me,” he grins lopsidedly.

I chuckle.  “And from you.  I wanted it to survive until tonight.  You guys all worked so hard on it.”

“Nah, it’s really easy to make, Mom.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

Kookie’s thumbs dig into two tender spots, and I tense.  “Sorry,” he gasps.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.  I think I’m just going to go take a little nap while I can.  We have a big night tonight, and I promised all the moms I’d stay up until everyone leaves.”

“Planning an all-nighter again, huh?”

“What?”

“Isn’t Emmie staying the night?”

“Yeah.  What are we going to do about that?” I mutter.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not leaving you open to too much temptation, am I, by letting her stay the night here?”

He shakes his head.  “Like I’d do anything with you and Dad in the house.”

My head pops up.  I spin around.  “Are you saying you would do something if we weren’t home?”

“I didn’t say that!” He backs up and holds his hands up in the air.  “Really, Mom.  I’m not going to touch her.”

“Good plan.  Stick to that.” 

I don’t need any grandkids before their time.  No matter how much I would enjoy them now.

He chuckles.  “I need to go make sure that all the pop is chilling in the fridge downstairs.”

“A likely story,” I call after him.

His laughter reaches my ears as he descends the staircase into our basement.  I smile.  You gotta love that kid.  I know I sure do.