Every year of my childhood, as far back as I can remember, my mom would bake sugar cookies with my two sisters and I. It was an event. We'd mix and roll and flour and cut and decorate for what seemed like hours. I vividly remember the glass dishes on the counter with egg food coloring mixtures and paint brushes for decorating. It was fun. Everyone loved those cookies, everyone but me. I detested the thin crispy flavorless wafers.
Anyway, today...4 days before Christmas, I let my mother down. I faked it. Yup. I shlepped my daughter to Giant. Proudly headed to the refrigerated cookie dough section, selected 2 sugar cookie rolls and grabbed the bonus $1 off coupon. But did I stop there. No way. I found the corn syrup filled pouches of cookie icing, snagged a red and a green to add to my fake filled reusable bag. And tonight K and I made cookies. She had a blast. I'm certain she's not aware of the term made from scratch. Would I have liked to do it the old fashioned way? Sure. But am I ashamed I faked it. Not in the least. We're all entitled to a little faking every now and again.