There's been a fair amount of goody making around the house lately.
My husband likes to bake carrot cake and I am fond of caramels, treats which hearken back to Christmases past.
Sugar cookies are also something of a tradition. We love to make them, eat them, and share them. More recently, the girls have commandeered the entire process and the other day I left Izzy and Caroline alone in the kitchen to finish decorating the latest batch.
When I returned, there was a distinct chill in the air and the Christmas spirit was nowhere to be found.
Don't ask me to break it down for you, dear reader, because while there was some degree of confusion as to how the trouble got started, both girls were crystal clear as to their innocence in the matter. Or at least, their inital innocence.
And I'm not going to lie--I got frustrated as well. I mean, I stopped short of breaking emergency swear vials or threatening Santa might not come after all, but believe me, these weren't the furthest thoughts from my mind!
Our plan to take cookies to our friends teetered on the brink. There was a distinct absence of sisterly love in the vicinity and the threat of a parental strike looming on the horizon. But Caroline and I pulled it together and went out the door, goodies in hand. Perhaps our friends still had a trace of goodwill in their homes.
When we returned later that evening, I was confronted by a deeply distraught Izzy. At first I felt frustrated, assuming this was an escalation of the earlier drama, but then I realized she was waving the remains of her dead betta fish in my face.
It seems the fish had hatched a daring escape plan which failed to take into account anything beyond the initial step of making it out of the bowl.
The next morning, when I passed through the girls' bedroom, I found Izzy's betta lying in state with a note and handmade fashion accessories from Caroline carefully placed nearby.
This is what it said:
I am so sorry about your fish and how rude I was. You take great care of your fish. If you don't know already it is not your fault. You are the best second-oldest sister and the best fish-sitter a fish could ever have!
p.s. I love you
Merry Christmas, dear reader. May you have peace in your hearts and homes.
Life isn't perfect and neither are we, so the blessing of peace often comes and goes. But it always returns, sooner or later, when we seek and make room for it.
I hope we do. xo