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Reflections of Christmas Past: The Scavenger Hunt

By now, you’re well acquainted with my eldest son and my four other wonderful children.  And all the hijinks and hilarity with which we provided you over the past two years.  Although, that was only one short season of our lives.  Now, I would like to take you back in time…to the year before that.  When my elder twins were fifteen and had yet to fall in love.  Back to a season when Kookie ate even more – can you imagine that?  And my bitty twins were but six years old.  Everett found himself with an entire decade under his belt and became a little more outspoken.  But mostly, it was a time for us to simply enjoy each other and all the wonder of the Christmas season.  Including a scavenger hunt….

Chapter 1: Kiwis and Other Christmas Fruit – Day 1

“A kiwi is a Christmas fruit, right, Mom?” my eldest son queries one chilly night in December.

“A kiwi?” I gasp, laughing.  “A Christmas fruit?  Isn’t it tropical?”

Kookie shrugs.  “They celebrate Christmas in the Tropics too, don’t they?”

“No,” my second oldest son replies to my question, not his brother’s.  “Look!  It’s wearing a winter coat!”  He holds up the fuzzy brown fruit shaped like an oval.

“And it’s green inside,” Kookie points out logically.  “Clearly, Christmas is its favorite holiday.”

“By that logic,” my only daughter retorts, “a strawberry is also a Christmas fruit.”

“It is!” exclaims Alastair, the older of my bitty twins.  “We always have strawberry sauce on our Christmas cheesecake!”

“How does he remember that?” Janna asks.  “He’s only six!”

“Grandma’s strawberry sauce is memorable,” I announce with zeal.

Janna shrugs.  “Strawberries don’t have a winter coat,” she informs Everett.

But he ignores her.  So I try to think of a red fruit with a fuzzy peel.  Red raspberries?  No.  Watermelon?  Not at all.  Cranberries?  Nope.  Cherries?  Nada.  Pomegranates?  I don’t think so.

I’m coming up empty.

I glance down at Alastair’s kiwi.  He’s cut it in half lengthwise and is scooping out its green flesh with a spoon.

“Hey, Alastair, that’s an original way to eat a kiwi,” I remark.  “You’re eating it like a grapefruit.”

“This is how I’ve always eaten kiwis,” he murmurs as he continues to dig some sweet green goo out of that fuzzy brown shell.

“It is?  I’ve always peeled them with a potato peeler and sliced them,” I comment.

“Yeah.  I’ve eaten them that way too when you’ve cut them for me.  But I like to do it this way.”

“I do that too.  That’s what the instructions said to do,” Abner pipes up from the stairs behind me.

I glance at my husband to catch a smile hovering over his lips.  He’s clearly as amused as I am.  Then his rich voice wraps around me.

“Kiwis come with instructions?  I didn’t know that.  How about oranges?  Do they?”  He pauses as he glances inquiringly from one son to the other.  “How about an apple?  Can you scoop out the guts of an apple?”

I’m giggling.  This is the most absurd conversation yet today.

“Mom,” Janna grabs my attention, “when are we gonna start this year’s scavenger hunt?”

“You still wanna do that?” I play dumb.  Completely exasperating her.

“Ma-ahm,” she whines.  “You promised.”

“Oh, well, if I promised, then I must have plans to deliver,” I utter as I smile at her mysteriously.

“Come on, Mom,” Kookie jumps in.  “Give us our first clue.”

“Puh-lease,” whine my bitty twins as Everett simply lassos me with his guileless puppy eyes. 

I am clearly – and quite unfairly, I might add – outnumbered here.

I heave a deep sigh.  “You all don’t play fair,” I moan.  “I haven’t even had time to compose a single clue yet.”

“What does that matter, Mom?” Janna pins me with her matter-of-fact stare.  “You’re a born poet.  You routinely compose entire songs in fifteen minutes flat.  What’s a four-line stanza gonna take you?  Thirty seconds?”

She clearly knows her mother quite well.

“Fine,” I give in.  “You win.”

Kookie high fives her.  “Way to go, sis!”

Alastair giggles.  Abner grins.  And Everett just gives me that sweet smile of his.

“Um,” I begin as every great American poet laureate before me began.

“Christmas is still several days away.

I know you’re expecting Santa’s sleigh.

But while that big elf is still miles from here,

Lend me your ear, some cocoa, and holiday cheer.”

“Mom,” Janna pierces me with her jade green gaze, “that doesn’t tell us anything.”

“Not so,” I reply.  “What did I hint at?”

“Santa’s sleigh!” Everett jumps on the first hint.

“Cocoa!” Kookie takes the biggest one.

“Who’s that big elf?” asks my precious little darling, Alastair.

“Ah, who’s the biggest elf of all?” I query.

“Santa Claus,” Janna replies dryly.  “So this whole clue is about hot chocolate?”

“But what does Santa’s sleigh have to do with hot chocolate?” Kookie is clearly confused.

However, Everett easily grasps the meaning of that clue.  “It’s referring to that one mug we have.  The Hershey one.  It has a picture of Santa’s sleigh on it.  Full of toys.”

Kookie’s eyebrows smack the ceiling.  “Oh, yeah.  It’s really big, right?”  He stretches his hands far apart from one another.  “So I can drink twice as much hot chocolate?”

I laugh at him.  And shake my head.  Kookie’s a bottomless pit these days.  His morning meal of cereal now requires an appetizer of cereal and a dessert of – you guessed it! – yet more cereal.  And when he comes home from school, he uses all four slots in our giant toaster.  Twice.  And half a jar of jam.  I’ve recently encouraged my husband to buy stock in both Smucker’s and General Mills.  At the rate Kookie’s going, he’ll singlehandedly keep them both in business for years to come.  And when he’s finished, Everett and the bitty twins will pick up his slack.  Perhaps we should also invest in a dairy cow.  Or two.

I glance at Abner.  “Shall I give you the next stanza?”

My tiny cutie beams at me as he unleashes the atomic force of that gorgeous grin on me.  How can a six-year-old pack that much power into a simple smile? 

He’s nodding his head vigorously.

“All right,” I chuckle, “here goes….

“Whether you love marshmallows or mountains of cream fluff,

You’ve come to the right place to enjoy all the good stuff,

Sprinkles, candy canes, red sugar, and chocolate galore.

Before you’re done creating, you’ll be asking for more.”

“Yep,” Kookie grins with glee, “it’s definitely hot chocolate.”  He glances around.  “So where is it?”

“It’s not just hot chocolate.  It’s a hot chocolate bar,” Janna informs him primly.  “Complete with marshmallows, whipped cream, chocolate chips—”

“Candy canes!” pipes up Alastair.

“Sprinkles!” adds Abner.

“And red sugar,” finishes Everett.

“Where do you usually enjoy a hot chocolate bar?” I ask.

“In the kitchen,” the oldest of my children correctly answers.

“Ding, ding, ding!  You’re the winner!” I exclaim, and they all jump to their feet.  “Of course, I didn’t know you were all going to strong arm the first clue out of me today, so nothing is set up yet.  I will need a few elves to help me get the supplies together.  Who wants to be Mrs. Claus’s first helper?”

“Me!” Alastair and Abner both ejaculate simultaneously.

“Excellent.”

“I’ll get the sprinkles!” Abs offers.

“And I’ll get the red sugar.”

I grimace.  “Actually, I think you’re both a little short to reach that shelf.”  I glance at my eldest son.  “Kookie?  Can you give them a hand?”

He nods as Everett claims the marshmallows.  And all four boys fly towards the stairs.  Headed for the basement pantry my husband built me.

“Does this mean I have to make the whipped cream?” grumbles Janna.

I shrug.  “You didn’t have to run downstairs.”

“True.”  She nods sagely.

“You could gather the chocolate chips and the candy canes.”

That serious glare pins me yet again.  “But they’re downstairs, aren’t they?”

“Actually, I think the candy canes are in my room, and there’s still some chocolate chips in the cupboard up here.  I’ll make the whipped cream.”  I climb out of my comfortable recliner.

“Deal,” she jumps on doing the least amount of work, and I grin at her as she wanders down the hallway towards my bedroom. 

I head for the kitchen.  Prepared to whip up a batch of mountains of cream fluff. 

I’m looking forward to enjoying my kids’ first scavenger hunt sweet treat!

Chapter 2: Christmas Colors – Day 2

“Mommy!” a tiny voice whispers harshly into my ear the next morning.  “What’s our next clue?”

Slowly, my eyelid cracks open to admit a slender peek of my youngest.  Abner.  AKA Abs.  He’s grinning at me.  From ear to ear.  And waiting so hopefully that I can’t even begin to disappoint him.

“Is everyone assembled in the kitchen?” I query.

He shakes his head.  “Kookie’s still sleeping.  So is Nana.  But Alastair and Everett are awake.  And we are all ready for our next clue!”  He’s brimming over with excitement.

“Come back…when Kookie’s awake,” I mutter and roll away from him.  My eyelid shutting to close out the pesky light of the sun streaming through my windows.  “Isn’t it Saturday, Abs?” I inquire as I yawn.

“Yep.  We have all day to search for our next treat!”

“Today might not be a treat.  It might be an activity,” I mumble against my pillow.

But I can imagine his disappointment.  “An activity?” he quizzes me, disheartened.

“You know, like something to build.”

“Like a snowman?” he asks as sudden joy floods his voice.

“Yeah, like a snowman.”

I can hear the frown in his tone as he responds, “But there’s no snow on the ground.”

“I’ve already compensated for that.”

Now confusion rings in his voice.  “What’s compensated?”

“In this case, it just means that I’m not going to let a little thing like a lack of snow stop you all from building a snowman.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“So we are building a snowman?”

“Well…not exactly.  How about you get all your siblings together, and then I’ll bring you your next clue?”

“Okay, Mommy!”  He bounces out of my room.  Forgetting to shut the door behind him.

Therefore, I hear him pounding on Janna’s door.  “Nana!  It’s time for our next clue!”  Then he makes his way next door and opens Kookie’s before charging into his bedroom. 

Now I’m imagining him landing like a cannonball into the middle of his biggest brother’s bed.  Kookie will probably just ignore him.  But I suppose it’s worth a try….

Meanwhile, I’m going to take advantage of the moment to get some more shuteye.  Anticipating today’s adorable awakening, I stayed up late last night.  Writing the next few clues….

—

“What’s this?” Kookie blinks up at me as I hand him a huge snowflake I cut from white paper.

“Your next clue.”

My three younger boys all beam up at me as Kookie glances down at the folded piece of paper I just placed in his palm.

“How is this a clue?”

“Open it up, goofball,” Janna rolls her eyes at him.

He glares at her for a moment before he begins to peel it apart with his fingers.  As he opens the six-pronged snowflake, his eyes slide across the words I penned on the inside of the page.  And he begins to read.

“Flakes and crystals, glistening and glimmering brightly,

Chilly air and wet eyelashes cheering us nightly,

We look to the skies for joy raining in abundance,

Unique as each is, they never suffer redundance.”

His recitation is interrupted by several gleeful shouts.

“I know what it is!”

“It’s snow!”

“Snowflakes!”

I grin at the enthusiastic trio of boys sitting around our kitchen table.

“There’s more,” Kookie informs them before he continues reading his clue.

“We are often disappointed by the games they play,

Warm weather constantly keeping them, from us, away.

Before they can even fall from the cold winter sky,

Those shimmering bright flakes begin melting by and by.

“So how can we bring our famous friend, Frosty, to life?

And maybe, perchance, perhaps, even give him a wife?”

Several giggles break out at the sounding of this line, but Kookie perseveres in sharing his clue.

“Let’s revisit a favorite toy from our youth,

Find some plastic cans where we satisfy our sweet tooth.”

“Plastic cans?”  Janna’s voice interrupts him this time.  “What’s that about?”

Kookie shrugs as he continues to read.

“Every holiday we escaped to this big room

That could house our whole family, even when it did bloom.             

The table is spread wide, a happy surface we’ll find,

Lots of room to make a joyful brood where once we dined.”

Everett’s eyes grow large.  “Our dining room!” he gasps.  “We always have our big family dinners in the dining room!”

Abner jumps up from his seat at the table and runs around the island in his haste to reach the doorway connecting our kitchen to our dining room.  Alastair and Everett are quick to follow him.  Kookie wanders after them.  But Janna glances up at me. 

“I passed the dining room on my way into the kitchen.  We all did.  There wasn’t anything on the table.  I would have noticed.”

I quirk one questioning eyebrow at her.  “Would you?”

I turn to head after my boys.  Janna trails me.

“There’s more to the clue,” Kookie informs everyone as they each grab a chair, plopping their bottoms down on it before reaching for the cans of Playdoh in the middle of the table.

“There is?” queries Janna in surprise.  “Why?  It’s quite obvious what we’re supposed to do.”

“Swirls of red and yellow come to life as Frosty’s nose.

Plain old white is all we need to give Frosty some toes.”

Alastair bursts out laughing.  “Snowmen don’t have toes!”

My eyes fly wide.  “They don’t?  Are you sure?” I quiz him doubtfully.  “How else do they play footsy?”  I nudge his foot with my own toes.  And he giggles.

Kookie endeavors to read all the way to the end of my clue. 

“Any color will do if a new scarf is our goal.

Mix them all together to fit him with eyes of coal.”

“See?  I told you,” Janna remarks baldly, “we didn’t need instructions.  We’re just supposed to make a snowman out of Playdoh.”

“Don’t forget his wife!” Abner adds.

And everyone laughs as they begin to divvy up the dough. 

“I’ll make some orange,” Kookie offers as Abner begins to mix all of the darker colors together.

“Mine’s gonna be black!” my youngest announces.  “For his eyes, his buttons, and his hat.”

“His hat?” I ask.

“Yeah, Mommy.  You know, the hat that looks like a big can.”

“A big can?” I chuckle.  “You mean, his top hat?”

Abner’s eyes widen as he shoots another magnificent grin my way.  “Yeah!  His top hat!”

“I’m making brown, Mommy, for his arms.  Branches are brown,” Alastair informs me with a confident bob of his chin.

“How do you make brown?”

“Use Christmas colors,” he responds quite knowledgeably.

I decide to test him.  “Yellow and purple?”

He shakes his head.  “No, Mommy!  Those aren’t Christmas colors.  Those are Easter colors.  Look!  Red and green make brown.”

“Indeed, they do,” I reply, “but so do yellow and purple.  Right?  Green is blue and yellow.  Add them to red…et voilà!  You have brown.  But purple is red and blue, so…”

“So, if I add them to yellow, I’ll get brown too,” Alastair nods his head.  “But, Mommy, yellow and purple still aren’t Christmas colors.”

“Fair enough,” I comment as I shrug.

“So, Alastair, what color are you going to make your snowman’s scarf?” Janna asks her little brother a moment later as she rolls some white dough into a ball.

He beams at her.  “Christmas colors.”

As she cocks a dark eyebrow at him, he elucidates, “Red and green.”  He glances at me.  “Not yellow and purple.”  Then he flashes his pretty white teeth at me before focusing on the task at hand.

Soon enough, several adorable snow couples are populating the top of my dining room table.  Everyone has found it necessary to give their Frosty a wife.  Kookie gave his snow girl ears and – more to the point – several earrings.  Janna’s little couple has each been outfitted with a scarf, a hat, and matching mittens.  Her snow boy is wearing green; his wife, purple.  Everett’s snowman has a blue scarf.  Even his snowwoman has a matching one.  Abner’s couple has eyes of coal, two top hats – also black, ebony buttons, a carrot nose, and mouths made from more midnight dots.  He’s still working on making branches for their arms. 

Alastair’s snowman and snow wife are holding hands.  Or, as I’m sure he would correct me, holding branches.  Brown ones.  Made of green and red swirled together.  He would probably tell me his Christmas colors got married.  Either way, his final product is pretty cute.  Of course, all those lovely snow couples – my children’s own creations – can’t hold a candle to the five precious faces assembled around our family’s dining room table.  Where several Christmases in a row have seen each of us seated – enjoying our favorite meal of the year – clothed in…what else?  Alastair’s Christmas colors.

Chapter 3: A Treat or Two – Day 2

After my brood cleans up their Playdoh scraps, my youngest son turns towards me.  “Mommy, what’s our next clue?”

I smile down at him in amusement.  “What?  You think you get two in one day?”

Abs nods vigorously.  “Yes!  We didn’t get our treat yet!”

I glance down at his snowman.  And his wife.  “You don’t want to eat Frosty here?  And Mrs. Frosty?”

“Ech!  No!” Alastair responds.  “Playdoh is salty!”

I burst out laughing then.  “And just how do you know that?”

My bitty twins glance at each other before glaring up at their eldest brother. 

“What?” Kookie tosses his hands up in the air as his wide obsidian eyes blink guilelessly.  Then he shrugs.  “So I might once have convinced them to try a bite.  What kid hasn’t eaten Playdoh?”

“Especially when she was force fed it by her elder brother?” Janna adds dryly.

Kookie’s eyes fly to her in dismay.  “I never force fed you anything!”

“That is not how I remember it,” she huffs.  Crossing her arms over her chest.

Kookie appears chagrinned.  “I plead the fifth,” he mumbles.

And I giggle.  And shake my head.

“So…” Abner prompts me, “our treat?”

“Hmm…well, I do have another clue.  But it might only be valid for resident BTS fans.  Or Star Wars afficionados.”

My daughter was thirteen the year she discovered BTS.  Shortly thereafter, I discovered Jungkook’s rendition of O Holy Night.  In one universe anyway.  But not in this one.  In this one, I discovered Tae’s cover of the song.  I pick up my phone, open YouTube, and soon enough, Tae’s mellow deep voice is serenading us all.

Kookie groans.

“Hey,” I admonish him, “at least it’s Christmas music.”

Janna grins.  “Is Tae going to sing us your clue, Mom?”

I snort.  “Hardly.  I mean…I tried to talk him into it, but he was a bit busy this year.”

“Where’s our clue, Mommy?” queries Alastair.

I smile at him.  “Hmm.  You have to solve my riddle first.”

“What riddle?” Everett jumps into the conversation finally.

“It’s cold outside; the frigid weather’s so frightful.

But the tea kettle’s warm, its gifts so delightful.

We choose our favorite bag, and we bury it deep.

Watching the fleet minutes fly by, we let it steep.”

“It’s all about making tea,” Everett theorizes.

“Hmm.”  I gaze at him.  “So where might you find your clue?”

He, my hot tea lover, jumps from his chair and rushes out to the kitchen.  To dig through the cabinets.  Opening boxes of tea.  I smile when he unearths the peppermint one.  I know because a moment later….

“Found it!” his cheerful voice resounds before he rushes back out to the dining room.  Holding a rolled-up scroll triumphantly over his head.

“What’s it say?” Alastair instantly quizzes him.

Everett unrolls it part of the way and begins to recite its poem.

“What if today we want something cold and creamy?

Drinks full of character and bubbles so dreamy?

Which kind will we use to brighten this winter day?

Which flavor of pearls will we choose at the café?”

“At the café?  What café?” Kookie cocks one midnight eyebrow at me.

“Wait a minute,” Janna interposes.  “What does this have to do with BTS?”

“Or Star Wars?” Everett, an avid lover of all things intergalactic, queries.

“Bubbles?” Abs jumps on the keyword.

And Janna’s eyes light up.  “Boba tea!”

“Star Wars!”  Kookie erupts into laughter as he grins at me.  “I’ll take the Boba Fett tea, please.”

I giggle.  He’s always gotten my sense of humor.  It feels wonderful to be so understood.

Janna purses her lips as she considers the riddle.  “But there’s several places in town where we can buy boba tea.  So, which one is it?”

Everett shakes his scroll before rolling it all the way open.  “Wait.  There’s more…”  He clears his throat before he begins to read again.

“Enliven me.  Inspire me.

Boost me.  Light a fire in me.

Elevate me.  Come raise me up.

Edify me.  Please lift my cup.”

Alastair frowns as his twin eyebrows float towards his nose in confusion.  “That’s the clue?  What does that have to do with tea?”

“It must have something to do with the name of the shop,” Janna postulates.

And I hide my smile behind my hand.

“Cheer Me Up Bistro!” Kookie suddenly ejaculates as he sits straight up in his chair.  “They have boba tea there!”

“Really good boba tea,” Janna agrees.  Then she glances sharply at Kookie.  “But how do you know that?”

Janna’s been crazy for boba tea nearly as long as she’s been in love with BTS.  Kookie, not such a fan.  Of the band anyway.

He shrugs.  “I went there with a couple of girls from school.”

“What?”  Janna’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.  “You went there with girls from school!?   What girls?”

I know what she’s thinking.  If word of this gets back to Emmie, it’ll crush her.

He shrugs.  “A couple of girls from my drama class.  We had to run lines together, and they both like boba tea, so we walked there after class one day and got something to drink before practicing….”  His voice trails off as he stares in consternation at the irate glare his sister is shooting into his bones.  “What’s wrong?” he finally asks her.

She draws a deep breath.  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I just can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me!  You liked it, didn’t you?”

Kookie blinks.  “Liked what?”

“Boba tea.”

“Oh.  Um.  Yes.  It was good.  But the boba’s my favorite part.”

“Mine too!” I agree vociferously.  “So?  Who’s up for some milk tea?”

Everyone seems quite eager, so we all pile into my van and head for the little bistro.

“But, Mommy,” Abner pipes up from the back seat, “what does boba tea have to do with Christmas?”

“I feel certain it must be one way Koreans celebrate Christmas.  Right?  And if it’s not, maybe we can suggest it when we meet BTS.”  Of course, this is one of our feather castles. 

“Maybe we’ll just make this a new Christmas tradition of ours,” I suggest.  I glance up into my rearview mirror and smile at all the precious faces beaming back at me.

“Mommy?”  It’s Abner’s voice again.

“What, darling?”

“Can we get a cookie too?”

It seems that Abs is determined to get not one treat today but two.

And how could I possibly say no to that cherubic countenance? 

Chapter 4: Snowcakes – Day 3

The next morning finds me nose to nose with a different bitty twin.  I feel the mattress give way beneath me as I lie blissfully floating in that serene space that invades upon first waking in the morning.  Before I open my eyes for the first time.  But at the shifting of the bed beneath me, my eyes pop open.  And I find myself face to face with Alastair.  He’s lying on the side of the bed my husband usually occupies.  Of course, that darling man woke up over an hour ago. 

I think.

I don’t bother to glance at the clock, though.  Instead, I confront the adorable face before me.

“Good morning, Alastair.”

“Hi, Mommy.”  He beams at me.  Then buttons his lips.

“What’s up?” I query.

“Is it time for our next clue?”

I nearly burst out laughing.  But I decide to groan instead as my eyes slide towards the clock.  “Seven thirty-seven?!” I gasp.  “It’s too early to wake up.  We’re on vacation.”

“But, Mommy, Emmie and Noel are coming over later, so if we need to go somewhere, we need to get started now.”

“You don’t want Emmie and Noel to join us?”

His dark blue eyes widen in some consternation.  “That depends.  How long will we have to wait for them?”

I do giggle now.  Then I reach up to ruffle his dark hair.  “Come on.  Let’s go make some breakfast.  Perhaps you’ll find a clue afterward.”

“What kind of breakfast?”  Those guileless eyes are still staring into mine.

“Snowmen pancakes?”

“Deal!”  He rolls away from me and leaps from the bed.  “I’ll get the pancake mix!”

I’m wondering how he’s going to suddenly grow a couple of feet.  That box of mix is in the very top of my pantry.  Perhaps Kookie will help him.

Who am I kidding? 

There’s no way Kookie’s up yet.  No one’s up.  Just me and Alastair.  Surely, everyone else is still sleeping!

Of course, I discover I’m correct as soon as I stumble out into the living room.

“Uh, Alastair, shouldn’t we go back to bed for another couple of hours?”

Yes.

“No, Mommy.  I’m hungry.”

I groan.  Hunger, the bane of every exhausted mother’s existence.  If it’s not his, it’s Kookie’s.  And if it’s not Kookie’s, it’s Everett’s.  And if it’s not Everett’s, it’s Abner’s.  And if it’s not Abner’s, it’s my own.

Just then, my stomach grumbles.  And I shoot it a dirty glance.  Every other fiber of my being is at war with that grouchy organ.  My other fibers just want to sleep.

But I’ve got snowmen pancakes to make.  So I glance up at my third son.  “Alastair?  Can you find the chocolate chips?”

“Of course!  Our snowmen must have eyes and a mouth.  And buttons too!”  Then he frowns.  “But what will be his nose?”

“Hmm.  Do we have any pumpkin spice chips?  Maybe they’re orange.”

“I’ll check the pantry.”  He flies down the stairs as I head out to the kitchen to drag my griddle down from the ledge above the cabinet.

A couple of minutes later, as the griddle heats and I dump water into a big bowl, Alastair comes bounding into the kitchen.  “Found them!”  Triumphant, he holds two bags of chips – one, pumpkin spice, the other, semisweet chocolate – above his head.

“Good job, buddy.  Wanna whisk in the pancake mix?”

He nods his head vigorously as he dumps the bags on the counter before picking up the whisk.  A few moments later, I begin to pour batter onto the griddle.  Creating a trinity of interlocking circles. 

“Don’t forget his top hat,” Alastair reminds me.

I chuckle and add a square to the top of the smallest circle.  Then I move on to Frosty’s wife.  And their children.  Soon, the griddle is warming an entire family of snow people.  I glance at Alastair.  He looks happy.  And I realize I am too.  Despite being dragged from bed at an insanely early hour.  Of course, it wouldn’t seem so insane had I not stayed up till one o’clock writing a story. 

“Oh!” gasps Alastair.  “We forgot to add the chips!”  He opens a bag and leans over to carefully position two eyes on the first snowman. 

“Be careful.  That griddle is hot,” I warn him before grabbing several pumpkin spice white chocolate chips to give each of our snowmen an abbreviated carrot nose.  Then I add three buttons to each tummy while Alastair gives them each a smile.  Soon, it’s time to flip the pancakes.

“I wish I had some whipped cream and strawberries ready,” I admit wistfully.

Alastair’s face lights up.  “Can we make some?”

“If you can get the whipping cream from the fridge downstairs.  And a bag of strawberries from the freezer.”

My little helper is off and running.  As soon as he vaults down the stairs, I hear another set of little feet traipsing into the kitchen.  I glance up to see Abner wandering into the room.  Shirtless. 

It’s the middle of winter, but my youngest is clad simply in a pair of shorts. 

“Morning, Abs.  Aren’t you freezing?”

He ignores this question – apparently, I’ve asked it too many times for it to be acknowledged anymore – and queries, “Are those pancakes?”  I hear a tiny puff of air escape his nose as he laughs.  A sweet smile spreads across his face as he stares down at my fanciful pancakes.  “Are those…snowmen?”

“Yep.  A whole line of Frostys for you to eat.”

“Yay!  You’re the best, Mommy!”  He wraps his arms around me and gives me a hug as I flip the pancakes over.

“Awww.  So are you, Abs.”

“Here’s the strawberries,” pants Alastair as he runs back into the kitchen, “and the cream.”

Abner’s eyes light up.  “Are we making whipped cream?”

“Indeed, we are,” I smile at him before grabbing the whipping cream. 

I open it and upend it over my huge mixing bowl.  Then I toss in a little powdered sugar and vanilla extract before locking the bowl into my mixer and starting the whisk spinning.  While it does all the work, I dump the strawberries into a glass bowl and put it in the microwave.  We’ll have strawberries and cream in no time.  But not before these pancakes are going to be done.  I turn towards the griddle before grabbing my spatula and moving those beautiful snow babies to a plate.  I carry it to the table and encourage the boys to help themselves.

They don’t have to be told twice.  And within a few seconds, almost all the snowmen are crowding each other on two other plates.  I quickly create some more delightful pancakes, filling in the eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons by myself before retrieving the strawberries from the microwave.  I glance down to discover the cream is almost whipped to perfection.  I add a little sugar to the strawberries and toss them back into the microwave to heat some more before rescuing the mountain of whipped cream from its whisk. 

A few minutes later and Alastair is scooping strawberries onto his pancakes as I crown them with several dollops of the sweetened cream.  Then, as I shove the lone remaining pancake into my mouth, I recognize how truly hungry I am.  Of course, I’ve already done enough hard work to whip up that appetite.  Good thing I can solace it with chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream.  Pancakes are, of course, simply vehicles for all those other good things.  The only flavor that’s out of place is that pumpkin spice vanilla chip.  It doesn’t exactly pair well with strawberries.  But I simply shrug my shoulders and swallow it as I anticipate another bite full of chocolate strawberry goodness.

Chapter 5: Yuletide Adornments – Day 3

“Okay, Mommy, breakfast is over,” Abs begins.

“And the kitchen is clean,” Alastair finishes.

And two pairs of imploring eyes peer up at me as we all stand near the kitchen island.

“Can we have our clue now?” they question me in unison.  Making me giggle.

How do they do that?

Must be a twin thing.

“You know the problem….” I prompt them.

They both sigh. 

“Nobody else is awake,” grumbles Alastair.

I shake my head.

“I can remedy that!” asserts Abs gleefully.

Before I can stop him, he races down the hallway and flings open the door to Kookie’s room.  A moment later, he’s bounding onto his big brother’s bed.  Alastair follows him at a more sedate pace and calmly opens the door to Everett’s room.  I can hear him softly rousing his brother a moment later.  So I decide to check in with Janna.  She’s awake, just slow to rise.

“Pancakes are getting cold,” I inform her.

“You made pancakes?” she queries, sitting up in bed.  Perhaps a little more interested in eating than she was a few seconds before.

“Well, technically, Alastair and I made pancakes.”

She squints up at me.  “What kind of pancakes?”

“Snowmen pancakes.”

She grins.  “Of course, you did.”  Then she narrows her eyes at me.  “Is that why you woke me up?  Just to tell me there’s cold pancakes in the kitchen?”

I sigh.  “Actually, Alastair woke me up.  He wants today’s clue.  I tried to buy you all some time by making pancakes first.”  I twinkle at her.

“You’re the best, Mom.”

“You’re coming then?”

“Of course!”

“I’ll get the clue then.”  I wander out her doorway and across the hallway to enter mine. 

A few minutes later, I find everyone already assembled in the kitchen.  My eldest three children are each shoveling part of a pancake into their mouths.  Although, upon further inspection, I suspect that Kookie actually shoved an entire snowcake into his.

“Now, Mommmy?” prompts Alastair.  And, yes, there were three m’s in that address to Mommy.

“Well, everyone seems to be ready now.”  I glance around at my crew.  “Yes?”

“Yes!” they all thunder.  And I fall back a step at their vehemence.

I clear my throat before reciting.

“Christmas arrives but once a year. 

Still, we find it full of good cheer.

For it’s replete with gracious times.

And – thanks to Mommy – lots of rhymes.”

Everyone’s giggling at that last line.  And a couple of my oldest kids are shaking their heads.  But they’re grinning at me.

“She likes to blend activities

With delicious festivities.

Today’s one of our favorite days –

Costuming sweets in many ways.”

Several eyebrows dance in the air, so I continue reading.

“Some of us choose simple frosting.

Still, it can be quite exhausting.

Others add sprinkles and red hots.

Or, even better, candy dots.”

I hear a couple gasps and glance down to see the bitty twins beaming up at me. 

“We get to decorate cookies today!” Alastair jumps up and starts to dance around the room.  Abner follows suit.

I continue perusing their clue.

“Whether an angel or a bell,

Christmas trees adorned with green gel,

Snowmen, stockings, or candy canes –

No one cares how much weight he gains –

“We happily devour all,

As we answer the yuletide’s call,

Gliding with glee down sparkling lanes,

Singing Noel’s joyful refrains.

“Watching brightly twinkling bulbs glow

Surrounded by new, driven snow,

We enjoy the work of our hands,

Taking a break from life’s demands.”

Everett’s eyes light up.  “Bobtail Trail!”

“Wassail Trail!” adds Alastair.

“And Trees Trimmed Trail!” Abs shouts with joy.

They’ve just named the three parallel streets near our house that host a massive display of Christmas lights and other yuletide paraphernalia.  You guessed it…inflatable reindeer, well-lit nativity scenes, brightly shining stars, and Santa figurines galore.  And the yards of at least two houses littered with the twelve days of Christmas.  Although, it might take three yards to hold all those birds!  And people!

Everett pipes up again.  “Noel is going to be here soon!  He gets to go with us tonight, right?  To see all the Christmas lights?”

“Of course.  But not until he’s helped you decorate cookies.”  I shrug.  “He’s got to have something to eat in the car when we head out tonight.”

“We get to have some hot chocolate too, right, Mommy?” Abner quizzes me, eyeing me intently.

“Of course.  We can’t go see the Christmas lights sans hot cocoa.  You’ll have to put in your orders early: whipped cream or marshmallows?”

“Whipped cream,” Janna is quick to respond.

“Me too!” adds Alastair.

“Both!” exclaims Abner.

“Coffee, whipped cream, marshmallows, and caramel,” opines my second oldest son.

I snicker.

Everett is going through a mocha-loving phase.

“Are you sure you don’t want any sprinkles on top?” I question him.

And his eyes light up.  “Yes.  Absolutely.  Christmas sprinkles!”

I glance at Kookie then.  “Let me guess.  You would like four cups of hot cocoa, each laden with a pile of marshmallows and a mountain of whipped cream.”

“Caramel sounds good too,” he grins at me.

And I nearly faint from the beauty of that bright smile.  “Very well,” I sigh.  “Eight cups of hot cocoa.  And one barrel of sugar.”

“Don’t forget No’s, Mom!” Everett reminds me of his best friend once more.

“And Emmie’s,” Janna and Kookie chime in at the same time. 

They glance at each other and burst out laughing.  Apparently, my bitty twins weren’t the only ones who inherited the talent of reading each other’s minds.  Or, at the very least, of finishing each other’s sentences.

“I won’t forget.  Emmie likes plain hot cocoa.  Lots of it.  And Noel likes his with a candy cane.”

“Ooh!  Can I have a candy cane too?” asks Abs.

“Of course, darling.  I’ll bring a handful.  That way I won’t miss anybody.”  I smile down at my youngest before surveying the whole group again.  “Who’s ready to decorate some cookies?”