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“Decorating cookies for Santa’s elves,” Cobie answers.
After dinner, we, along with Willa and a group of other guests, embarked on a delightful mess-making adventure, determined to create the most festive and delicious cookies. Trixie is tasked with picking the ones she thinks Santa would like best at the end of the night.
“Santa? Isn’t it a bit early for the big guy?” Dawn asks.
“Miss Trixie is going to leave them out for the elves that come tomorrow night. They’ll take them back to Santa,” Cobie explains.
“Elves?”
“Yep. They come to hide treats and mistletoe for Santa, and we get to look for them with candles,” Cobie exclaims.
“Really? Can I get in on that action?” Dawn asks.
Cobie’s eyes go to her and narrow. “I can ask Miss Sela if you can come, too, but you’ll have to help make cookies.”
Dawn’s eyes come to me. “Miss Sela?”
“She’s our new friend,” Cobie answers before I get the chance.
Dawn raises an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
Cobie nods. “Yep. She’s nice. I think she’ll say yes, but you need to change. You don’t wanna get icing on your fancy clothes.”
Dawn glances down at herself. “You’re right, kid. I’ll be back,” she says before hurrying off.
Daniel throws his hand up in greeting as he follows.
“All right, Cobie,” I say, rolling up my sleeves, “let’s turn these plain cookies into works of art!”
I hand her a piping bag filled with vibrant icing, showing her how to create intricate designs.
Cobie watches intently, her small fingers gripping the piping bag with determination.
With an unsteady hand, she covers the stockings and sweaters with red royal icing. Her face lights up with joy every time she successfully completes a cookie and sets it on the platter with mine.
However, our artistic endeavor quickly takes a messy turn when I accidentally squeeze the icing bag too hard, causing a glob of green icing to splatter across the table.
Cobie gasps, her eyes wide with surprise. “You’re making a mess, Daddy.”
I hold up one of my creations; it’s a delightful disaster with uneven lines and smeared colors. “What do you mean? This is a masterpiece.”
She giggles and shakes her head.
Dawn returns, wearing an oversize T-shirt and black sweatpants, and takes a seat at our table.
“Where’s Daniel?” I ask.
“He’s unpacking us and taking a nap,” she says as she squeezes a dollop of green icing on a plate and grabs a cookie shaped like a wreath.
“A nap? It’s almost bedtime,” Cobie points out.
“He’s a night owl. Rock ’n’ roll does that to you, kid,” Dawn replies.
Cobie scrunches up her nose. “Rock ’n’ roll.”
Dawn taps her chin. “You can scowl all you want, but one day, your teenage self will be drooling over a hot guitar player too.”
Cobie’s eyes go round. “Ew, no, boys are gross, and so is drooling.”
