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I’m the first to hear the knock on the door.  It’s just a little after three in the afternoon.  Too early for party attendees.  Emmie and Noel must have arrived already.  I cross the room and open the front door.  I stare in surprise at Emmie. 

“Hi, Mrs. Franklin,” she smiles sweetly at me as I back up and let her and her brother into the house. 

I continue to gape at her.  She is absolutely beautiful.  I stare in wonder at her as I relive the moments that I’ve spent watching her grow up in my house.  How on earth is she so grown-up now?  She looks three years older today.

Just then, Kookie enters the living room.  I’m distracted by his movement out of the corner of my eye, and I can’t wait to see his reaction to this budding beauty standing in front of me.

“Hi, Emmie,” he stops speaking in mid-breath as his eyes grow wide. 

Kookie is now staring at the object of his affection too.  “Where are your glasses?” he finally croaks.

She grins suddenly.  “I’m wearing contacts.  What do you think?  Do I look okay without my glasses?”

Okay?

Kookie appears thunderstruck.  He continues to gape at her.  He blinks.  Several times.  But doesn’t say a word.

A tremor of insecurity ripples across Emmie’s face.  “Do I look bad?” she winces.

“Bad?” Kookie echoes, but he still seems at a loss for any other words.

Emmie continues to gaze at him.  Clearly fearful that he will reject this new her.

After a few stunned moments, he shakes his head.  “No.  Not at all.”

They stare into each other’s eyes for what seems to be an eternity.  Finally, sighing, Emmie breaks their eye contact.  “I brought my glasses with me.  Maybe I should put them back on,” she mumbles self-consciously.  As though she thinks she needs to hide behind those lenses.

“No, Em,” Kookie ceases to speak again.

She glances up at him.  “What?”

“You look…good,” he finishes lamely.  Then he throws me a distressed look.

“Emmie, you look positively beautiful,” I come to his rescue, “with your glasses and without them.  I will say this.  You look three years older without your glasses on.”

“I do?” her face brightens. 

I nod my head.

“Excellent,” she asserts with relish.  She turns her head towards my eldest son.  “Kookie, do you think I look older?”

“You look…somethinger,” he responds nonsensically.

“Somethinger?” she laughs.  “Kookie, what is that supposed to mean?”

“What my mom said,” he replies.  “You look beautiful.”

Emmie freezes.  She swallows.  “I do?” she whispers.  “You think I’m beautiful?”

Now he’s the one whose countenance is awash in vulnerability.  He nods his head nervously.  Then his eyes slide away from hers to study his toes.

Emmie simply stares at him.  Suddenly, she flies forward and stands on her tiptoes as she raises her head towards his.  He glances up in surprise at her sudden movement.  She leans towards him and brushes a light kiss across his cheek.  “Thanks, Kookie,” she whispers.

Startled, Kookie watches her out of wide eyes.

Then, just as quickly, she’s gone, headed towards Janna’s room.

Kookie’s eyes meet mine.  “She really is beautiful, isn’t she, Mom?”

“Mm-hmm,” I respond noncommittally.

His eyes follow her.  “Why did it take me so long to see it?” he murmurs.

“I think you always saw it, Kooks.   I think you just weren’t ready to admit it until recently.”

His gaze finds mine again.  “Yeah,” he admits.  “You’re right.”

“Do you know what you were afraid of?”

He shrugs.  “Losing a good friend?”

My lips quirk upwards.  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”  His lips curve into a sweet smile as his eyes travel towards the hallway that Emmie just disappeared down.

––

“Noel, who’s your bias?” I ask Everett’s best friend late in the afternoon as we’re all watching BTS videos.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s Hobi!” Everett hollers from the kitchen where he’s currently loading the dishwasher.

I’m laughing.  Noel doesn’t know who his bias is, but Everett does?  Clearly, Noel hasn’t spent very much time with BTS.  But Everett has.  BTS posters line his walls.  As do Namjoon’s photo cards.  Jimin and Jin are sadly underrepresented in this group.  We’ve got three Yoongi biases, two Tae biases, a Namjoon bias, and, apparently, a Hobi bias.  Maybe.

I jump up off my recliner.  “Who wants pizza for dinner?”

“Me!” comes a chorus of voices.

I head for the kitchen to begin making pizza dough.  Emmie follows me.  She sits down on the stool at my island as I pull the ingredients from several cabinets.  We chat for a few minutes as I make the dough.  As it sits, I turn the oven on, setting it at five hundred degrees as I pull my extra rack from the oven and check for the presence of my pizza stone on the bottom rack.

I grab a red bell pepper and an onion from the fridge and begin slicing them while butter melts in my frying pan.  Soon, I’m tossing the peppers into the pan to brown them before adding water to steam them.  This is how I roast peppers.  Once they’re soft and all the liquid has been absorbed, I dump them onto a plate and add the onion slices to the pan.  I sauté them before adding them to my pile of peppers.  They’ll join some pepperoni on the pizzas I make for myself, my husband, and the two teenage boys eating with us tonight.  I make sure there’s ample pepperoni and cheese for the rest of my army.

“Emmie, do you want to help me make pizza crusts?” I query as I pull the dough from the bowl.

“Sure.”

We each work on one half of my kitchen table.  Emmie is quite efficient.  She has a perfect crust rolled out in no time at all.  I eyeball the round, flat dough.

“Wow, Emmie.  You’re really good at rolling out pizza dough!  That looks like a perfect pizza.  Wanna make another?”

She nods, so I hand her another ball of dough before sliding her crust onto my pizza paddle so I can easily deposit it onto the hot pizza stone.  I set the timer for four minutes before disappearing into the living room to find Abner. 

“Abs?  You wanna help me roll out some pizza dough?”

“Yeah!”  He jumps up and runs out to the kitchen.

Pretty soon, he’s rolled his thin.  I add it to the pizza stone once I retrieve my own, which baked after Emmie’s first one.

An hour later, I stare down at the stack of pizza crusts.  I glance at my two helpers.  “Time to finish the pizzas.  You both get to make yours first since you helped me.”

Abner finishes his first.  As I stare down at it, I remark, “Abs, look!  It’s a heart!”

“I know, Mommy.  Look.  I made a heart out of pepperoni in the middle.”

“You sure did.”  I grin at him before popping his pizza into the oven.

Six minutes later, I remove his pizza from the oven. 

“Abs, come here.  I want to take a picture of you with your heart pizza.” 

He sits down in a chair at the table, scoots up next to his Tata pizza, and grins up at me.  I snap a perfect shot before reminding him that his pizza is too hot to eat right now.  Once it cools, I grab a pair of scissors and begin to cut it in half. 

I pretend I’m the pizza and suddenly cry out, giving his pizza a silly voice, “Stop!  You’re breaking my heart!”

“That was funny, Mommy,” Alastair remarks as he giggles up at me.  He’s busy lining half his cheese pizza with pepperoni slices.

Several minutes later, I retrieve Emmie’s golden pizza from the oven.  “This pizza is amazing,” I remark as I stare down at the picture-perfect pie.  “Amazing Pizza,” I begin to sing to the tune of Amazing Grace.  “How sweet the taste that saved a stomach like mine.” 

Emmie rumbles with laughter.

“I once was starved but now I’m full,” I continue adlibbing.

“Was hungry, but now I eat,” croons Kookie as he enters the kitchen.

Emmie bursts out laughing as her eyes collide with his.

We are all in some kind of goofy mood.  I love cooking with Emmie.  She’s so much fun to hang out with.  Future daughter-in-law material, for sure!

A couple of minutes pass before I hear Emmie exclaim, “Ooh-ooh-ooh!”

I turn to glance her way.  “What?”

“I picked up the bag of mozzarella.  It had sauce all over it.  Now it’s all over my hand.”

“Ooh, cooties!” I gasp in mock disgust.

She begins giggling as she wipes her hand on a napkin.

She and Kookie continue to goof around while they finish assembling the pizzas.  While I’m baking the last pizza, the house phone rings.  My answering machine picks up the call.  I listen to the caller ID, which, as usual, makes absolutely no sense.  I glance over at the phone display.  The public broadcasting channel is stalking us with a telemarketing phone call. 

As Emmie hears the caller ID announcing the name of the public channel in completely inscrutable terms, she asks, “Who is that?”

“It’s Elmo,” I respond nonsensically.

“Who?”

“You know.  The little red monster from Sesame Street.”

She laughs.  “He’s calling to invite you to the auditions for his next voice,” she explains jokingly but with a completely straight face.  It’s her forte.

“‘Elmo prefers trains,’” I quote in my best Elmo tone.  A pitch quite a bit higher than my regular voice.

Emmie starts cracking up.  So does Janna who just meandered into the kitchen.

“What was that?” Emmie asks once she recovers her breath.

“My best Elmo impression,” I reply.  I turn to address my daughter.  “Janna, do you remember when I used to give Elmo a voice when you were little?

“‘Elmo loves you.’” I quote her favorite little furry friend again. 

“Janna loved Elmo when she was little,” I inform her human friend.  “I used to read her Elmo books and make her little stuffed Elmo speak.  It’s the only decent impression I’ve ever been able to do.  ‘Elmo loves you,’” I repeat in my high-pitched tone.

Emmie is still giggling. 

“‘Elmo prefers trains,’” I mimic again.

“What’s that?”  Emmie asks quizzically.

“My husband’s favorite Elmo quote.  He was in the room once when I was reading that book to Janna and Kookie.  Ever since, anytime anyone says, ‘I prefer such and such,’ he always replies—”

But before I can explain, I hear Kookie in the living room speaking to his father, “No thanks, Dad.  You know I prefer pecans.”

Suddenly, my husband replies in a soft, clear voice, “And Elmo prefers trains.”

Emmie and Janna lock eyes, and my daughter’s friend starts giggling breathlessly again.

“There.  That,” I respond, holding my pizza fork out towards the living room.  “I rest my case.”

A few minutes later, I feel nature calling as the oven timer alerts me that Janna’s pizza is almost finished baking.  I open the door.

“Janna, it needs another minute.  Can you take it out when it’s done?  I need to use the bathroom.”  As I head for the living room, I add, “And don’t forget to turn off the oven.”

“Yeah, Jan-nah, don’t be like me and leave it on all night,” Emmie admonishes Janna breezily.

“All night?” I echo on my way out the doorway.

“Yeah, all night.”

Yikes!  Remind me always to leave Kookie in charge of the oven!

All night.

Ha.  All Night.

––

As I return to the kitchen a few minutes later, Everett meets me.  “Mommy, can we have some hot chocolate?”

“Sure.  After all, tonight is a party night, huh?” 

In two hours, after we open our stockings, Jimmy, Harmony, Melody, and Yoon will arrive to ring in the New Year with us.  Though, I suspect that Jimmy may head home early to hang out with his mom who’s still recovering from her long hospital stay.    

I watch as Everett warms up some hot cocoa before squirting out a mountain of whipped cream onto the top of it.  He shakes the container and depresses its tunnel again, but no cream is forthcoming.  He shakes it again.  Then he squirts the tiniest remainder into his mouth.  He shrugs his shoulders and tosses the can into the trash before carrying his cup out to the living room.

Abner enters the kitchen a few seconds later.  “Mommy!  Everett ate all the whipped cream!” Abner’s face is a study in disappointment.

“It’s okay.  I’ll make some more,” I assure him.  I open the fridge and pull out a pint of whipping cream.  “We’re going to give it the double whisk,” I announce as I plug two whisks into my mixer.  The only one to hear this grand announcement is Emmie, who is still hanging out with me in the kitchen. 

I plug my mixer in.  Instantly, it begins beating the air.

“Yikes!” I holler.  “I didn’t realize somebody left it on!” 

Emmie chuckles.

I pour the cream into a bowl.  It covers more than half of the bottom.  I’m concerned it will splatter me when I turn on the mixer.  As I gaze down into the bowl, I do my best Jack Nicholson impression, “You can’t handle the beaters!”

But the cream stays in the bowl.  Gratefully, I respond, “Apparently, you can handle the beaters.”

Emmie continues to laugh at my corny self as I whip that cream into shape after adding vanilla and sweetener, of course.  A couple of minutes later, I add whipped cream to my cocoa.

“Now it’s the perfect keto hot chocolate,” I comment.

“I thought that was tea,” Emmie asserts matter-of-factly before snickering.

“Tea?” I reply in surprise.  “No.  That would be gross.  You were like, ‘I know she eats a lot of weird stuff, but that’s now at the top of the list.’”

Emmie flashes her teeth at me as another giggle escapes her lips.  It’s days like this one when I wish I could just move her in with me.

A while later, as I’m cleaning up the kitchen, my husband comes scrounging around for a sweet.

“There’s some cookies in that container,” I inform him as I point my chin towards the kitchen table. 

He snags a gingerbread ninja from the box.  As he’s demolishing it, I ask him, “How’s your gingerbread, hon?”

His stellar response?  “Tastes like gingerbread.”

“Thank goodness,” I reply.  “No one will mistake it for a shortbread cookie then.”

He flashes me a grin before heading to the living room.  My daughter takes his place in the kitchen.

“Mom, I invited Harper tonight too.  I hope that’s okay,” Janna informs me sheepishly.

“Okay?  The more the merrier.  I’m glad you invited her.  Is there anyone else you wanted to invite?”

“Well, actually, I wanted to invite Jon and Bella.  But I wondered if that would be too awkward with Harmony coming too.”

“How are Jon and Bella?”

“I heard they went on a date a couple days ago.”

“Did they really?”

She nods her head.

I grin.  “Good for them.”

“Mom, you really should charge for your services,” Janna asserts as she grabs a gingerbread girl from the container.

“Huh?”

“Matchmaking.  You’d rake in a fortune, you know.”  She twinkles at me as she heads for the doorway.

Alastair is the next one to seek out a cookie.  I let him decorate three ninjas with a bag of white frosting.  When he finishes, he holds one up and announces, “Hey, Mommy, this guy is the winner!”

“Oh, yeah?  He has the best costume?” I respond.

“Yeah,” he sets his teeth over the gingerbread ninja’s foot and bites through the cookie before mumbling, “Now his foot fell off.”

“He kicked another guy too hard, and his foot fell off?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he giggles.  “He messed with a giant.  And the giant decided to eat his foot.”  He grins at me before carrying his cookies out to the couch. 

We both know it’s time to open our stockings.  Tonight marks the end of our Christmas celebrations for this year.  In a few hours, we will ring in the new year.  I can’t believe how fast this one sped by.  If I need any proof that it’s real, all I have to do is look at my five kids.  Just where did all that time go?

––

I long ago adopted Emmie and Noel as part of our family, so I found time during the busy Christmas season last year to make them each their own stocking.  Now they both have one to match my family’s stockings.  They join us on New Year’s Eve to discover all the goodies I’ve stuffed into their boot-shaped bags.

A few years ago, when my bitty twins were still pretty little, I spent several evenings cutting huge stockings out of colored felt.  Janna and Alastair chose a royal purple long before falling for Tae.  They didn’t know anything about “I purple you” back then.  But their stocking colors are so fitting now.  

Abner and I picked burgundy.  Even before Jungkook was our bias.  Long before we’d ever heard his name or his beautiful voice.  Everett chose blue.  It’s still his favorite color.  My husband’s is unique.  I made it green to match his eyes.

Last year, I made a burgundy stocking for Emmie, a fellow Jungkook bias.  At least, in my other universe anyway.   In this one, she loves Yoongi best.  He’s no longer her bias wrecker.  I created a blue stocking for Noel because it’s his favorite color.  His matches Everett’s. 

To decorate all nine stockings, I took the time to trace and cut out several Christmas shapes from white felt.  Then I used fabric glue to attach them to each stocking.  White Christmas trees, angels, bells, snowmen, and snowflakes adorn each stocking in a unique pattern.  Once each stocking was completely decorated, I used my sewing machine to sew the bottom and sides of each stocking shut.  I made them to last a long time.  Even after several years of use, they still look brand new.  And they’re strong enough to hold the massive assortment of stuff I cram into them every year.

As each of us finds a seat in the living room, Kookie and Janna remove the stockings from the hooks attached to our mantle.  They pass them out to their rightful owners before joining Emmie on the love seat.  The three of them are now crammed into the sofa like sardines, Emmie in the middle. At least, she’s not sitting on Kookie’s lap.  The bitty twins are sharing the big couch with their dad.  Everett and Noel are seated on the floor, and I, of course, am occupying my royal throne, the most comfortable seat in the house, my lovely recliner.    

“Who gets to go first?” Abs asks.

“You do.”  We’re starting with the youngest this year.

He reaches into his stocking and pulls out a long, thin, wrapped box.  I smile as I recognize it.  “Everybody, reach into your stocking and find your present that matches the one Abs just pulled out.”

Seven people obey my cheerful command. 

“Has everyone found theirs?”  As eight people nod at me, I give the next instruction.  “Go ahead and open them!”

Excitement filling the air around me, I watch as they all joyfully rip the wrapping paper off their plastic boxes. 

Janna is the first to recognize what I’ve bought them all.  “Chopsticks!  I was right!” she exclaims as she pulls out a pair of black chopsticks covered in indigo blooms.

Alastair grins as he studies his black chopsticks populated by purple flowers.  Everett’s chopsticks are also black but are sporting blue and green dragonflies.  Abner’s have the same pattern, but his chopsticks are red with gold and pink dragonflies.  Noel’s chopsticks are a dark blue with light blue leaves and a fat, white rabbit.  My husband opens his to reveal falling autumn leaves in shades of gold and red against a black backdrop.

I bought matching chopsticks for Emmie and Kookie.  They’re black with bouncing bunnies.  I couldn’t resist.  Of course, in this universe I’m the only one who understands the significance of the bunnies.  But I can’t hide my smile as I watch them open their happy rabbit chopsticks.  Their little ivory bunnies are chasing falling cherry blossoms. 

“They match,” I hear Emmie murmur to Kookie.

He glances up at her and grins, revealing his chubby bunny teeth in all their delightful glory.  She returns his smile before looking around the room.  I think she’s checking to see if anyone else has matching ones.

“What about you, Mom?” Janna asks me.  “Did you get any?”

I reach into my stocking and pull out my own box.  But, of course, I already know that it holds a pair of chopsticks that match Everett’s.  I love the dragonflies.  I pull them out and unveil them to Janna. 

She grins at me.  “Dragonflies, of course!”  She glances down at her indigo flowers.  “I love them.  Thanks, Mom.”

Over the last year, we’ve grown to love not only BTS but also Korean food.  Which, of course, must be eaten with chopsticks.  Janna’s been lamenting our lack of chopsticks for several months.  She’s been hoarding the wooden ones they hand out at our local Korean restaurant.  So I knew exactly what to buy her this year.  An authentic set that we could wash and keep.

I glance around the room.  Everyone looks pleased with this first present.

“Mom, does this mean that tomorrow we get to make a Korean feast?” Kookie queries.

“Hmm.   Perhaps.”

“Dumplings, here we come!” Janna exclaims with glee.

“Can we make hotteok for breakfast?” Kookie questions me again.

I groan and catch his gaze with my own.  “You want to drag me out of bed bright and early to cook?  Again?”

He grins ruefully at me.

“I’ll tell you what…if you want to get up and make the dough, when I get up, I’ll stuff it and cook them.”

“Deal!”

All of my teenagers are grinning now.  Hotteok is a great favorite.  I love it too.  

More calories.  Oh, well.  I can fast next week.  The New Year is a time to enjoy good food, right?

Which reminds me that I forgot to serve everyone a piece of pie.  Everyone except Emmie, that is.  She doesn’t care for pie.  She calls it “mushy.”  I’m sure Kookie will gladly eat her piece.  Maybe he’ll find a way to get that third slice after all.

“Mommy, can we open another one?” Alastair asks me suddenly.

“Absolutely!  Let’s go!” I urge.

We spend the next hour investigating our stockings.  By the time the last gift is unearthed, everyone has quite a stack of fun items to enjoy.  Alastair is slathering his new peppermint Chapstick all over his lips.

I head to the kitchen to cut some pies.  It’s definitely time for some refreshments.