Mother’s Christmas Cookies Story by Jason D. Smith

Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

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Introduction:

When I was a child, my mother would bake batches of different types of cookies and bars, and deliver boxes of them to friends, family and neighbors. I don’t know how many different types she made, but I had my favorites as you will see in this poem. During the holiday season, she would wake up at 4:00am and bake one batch after another until the evening hours. Her kitchen was her fortress and her cookies were like gold. No one was allowed in the kitchen nor touch her cookies before they were sorted and distributed to whoever wanted them for the holidays. And even though she saved a large part for me, my father and brother, especially my favorites, I still had that craving to eat a cookie or two- especially if they came right out of the oven. And my mischievousness resulted in the dragon’s wrath, as you will see in this poem. Enjoy! 🙂

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Verse 1: As a Five-Year Old

When I was five years old

My dad was working away

From my mom in the kitchen I was told

I’m busy! Go away!

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The kitchen was filled with the smell of cookies

It was the smell of M&Ms, my favorite of them all.

Then came the sound of a slam by Mom with lots of mookies

The powdered white flour, the cookie dough and all

And very hungry I became

But I knew I had to wait.

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30 minutes later, the M&M Cookies were out

And no more I could hold out

On the table on cookie sheets they were laying

And the first cookie I started slaying.

Then a voice of rage came from behind me with a clang

And I knew my crime would end with a bang

With a sound of her voice, so loud and so clear

“Get Out of My Christmas Cookies!”

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*****

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Verse 2: As a Ten-Year Old

When I was ten years old

My dad was still working away

From my mom in the kitchen I was told

I’m busy! Go away!

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The kitchen was filled with the smell of cookies

It was the smell of Grandma’s Hershey’s Kisses, which was a definite win.

Then came the sound of a screech and a roll by Mom with lots of mookies

With a rolling pin on the cookie dough and on top, a kisses pin

And very hungry I became

But I knew I had to wait.

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30 minutes later, the Hershey’s Kisses were out

And no more I could hold out

On the table on cookie sheets, the Kisses were laying

And the first cookie I started slaying.

Then a voice of rage came from the living room

And I knew my crime would end with a boom

With a sound of her voice, so loud and so clear

“Get Out of My Christmas Cookies!”

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*****

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Verse 3: As a 15-year Old:

When I was fifteen years old

With Barbie my dad had moved away

From my mom in the kitchen I was told

I’m busy! Go away!

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The kitchen was filled with the smell of cookies

It was the smell of Mom’s molasses, something that kick some asses.

Then came the sound of clops on the board by Mom with lots of mookies

They were cookie cutters that kicked some asses in the dough of molasses

And very hungry I became

But I knew I had to wait.

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30 minutes later, the molasses were out

And no more I could hold out

On the table on the porch, the molasses were laying

And the first cookie I started slaying.

Then a voice of rage came from across the house

And I knew I would be as dead as a mouse

With a sound of her voice, so loud and so clear

“Get Out of My Christmas Cookies!”

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*****

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Verse 4: As a 20-year Old

When I was twenty years old

My dad having passed away

From my mom in the kitchen I was told

Come Son, let’s bake away.

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The kitchen was filled with the smell of cookies

It was the smell of Mom’s candy canes that kept us sane

Then came the crushing sound on the board by Mom with lots of mookies

That was the sound of a hammer crushing candy canes

And very hungry I became

But I knew I had to wait.

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30 minutes later, the candy cane sugar cookies were out

And no more I could hold out

On the table in the kitchen, the canes were laying

And the first cookie I started slaying.

Then a voice of kindness came nearby

Her voice I could not come by

With a sound of her voice, so loud and so clear

“Enjoying My Christmas Cookies?”

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*****

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Verse 5: As a 25-year Old

When I was twenty-five years old

My mom had passed away.

To my wife and first-born child I told

Come, shall we bake away?

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The kitchen was filled with the smell of cookies

It was the smell of my wife’s gingerbread, I knew I wanted more

Then came rolling, the clopping and the sprinkles galore

They were creating a gingerbread man with lots of mookies

And very hungry I became

But I knew I had to wait.

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30 minutes later, the gingerbread man was out

And no more I could hold out

On the table in the kitchen, the man was laying

And just before I started slaying,

A voice of reason came about

I knew in a minute I had to go out

With a sound of her voice, so loud and so clear

“Please keep your hands off my gingerbread cookie.”

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*****

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My disclaimer:

For the record, both my parents are alive and well and still together after almost 50 years, but this one was for my mom to thank her for introducing me to her kitchen and the art of baking over Christmas.

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