A Sacrifice for Ginger Snap Cookies

It's cold. The kind of cold that makes me hibernate indoors and stoke my fire. It has been days like these that make me grateful I have a wood insert in my fireplace. My windows, original as my house itself are a serious waste of energy. Right now they are completely frozen shut, and the large one in my living room is completely covered in a layer of ice and frost. It happens every time the mercury drops close to -15 C. It makes the kids dread playing outside, and the walk to school with kids in tow painful experience. I found Gem a ride to school, and Jules and I can spend some quality time baking. It's cold, a perfect day for turning on the oven!

I flipped through my favorite cookbook looking for an interesting recipe, I can always throw an old stand-by together later. Chocolate chip, even though its Carpenter's favorite, is wearing thin. Jules comes up to me and says " Mommy, can we make gingerbread cookies today?" I looked at her as she folded her hands under her chin, batted her big eyelashes and added "Please, please, please?"
"Okay," I said, "How about this, We'll make Ginger Snaps and put SUGAR on them !"
"Yay!" she shouted, "I can help you too, Mommy? I'm a good helper!"

I sent her off to wash her hands and find her apron. I congratulated myself on having avoided the messy disaster that follows with cookie cutters, not to mention the icing sugar and decorating that comes later, when making cut out cookies. I still had powdered sugar left over from Christmas baking, and a small stash of candies that could be used up, after all it was just sitting there. But then I'd have to save some for Gem to decorate when she came home from school, to be fair, and I wasn't about to let the mess drag on. Ginger snaps, yes, much better choice. Besides, they were still to be sprinkled with sugar, and that's all that mattered to Jules. It's always, all about the sweet stuff when it comes to cookies.

So we set out beating the ingredients together , as Jules fetched eggs, and butter from the fridge, and constantly tried to lick every spoon that had any batter on it. Then she asked, "What do we need next?" After measuring out some flour, I looked at her and said, "We need Molasses." A look of horror flashed across her face.

Jules, up until now had only ever known Molasses as one thing. She had never tasted it. She did not know that there are people who enjoy it on top of morning porridge. She could care less that horses and cows love it mixed in with grain. Molasses was her teddy bear.

Molasses came to Jules her first Christmas. He has rich dark brown fur, black eyes, and nose. He has a small checked ribbon around his neck , and is very soft and cuddly. His name was printed on a tag, and that's what Carpenter, Gem and I called him. But Jules called him "Go- Asses", the best she could do at pronouncing his name for the longest time. He was the only teddy bear that she dragged everywhere; Inside, outside, in the truck, and to Grandmas. He comforted her through every storm, bad dream and sickness. He has survived being dragged through the mud, being painted, puked on, and a spin cycle or two. (Yes, I put him in the washer! It was PUKE) Molasses has stood the test of time, and can honestly say, "I am loved"
"We need Molasses?"She repeated, "We NEED Molasses? Mommy?" "We need Molasses?"
"WE NEED MOLASSES?"
"Yes" I said putting down my measuring cup.
"Okay, I'll go get Go -Asses." She hung her head as she climbed down off the chair. Surely these cookies that we were making somehow justified such a large sacrifice. A most beloved teddybear that would become cookies. Cookies covered in sugar, no less. The power of sugar.

"No, sweetie," I stopped her and pulled her close. Her eyes were full of tears. It never occurred to me that she could actually say the word "Molasses". It hit me very quickly the thoughts that were running through her mind. A vision of fur, beaters and eggs flashed through my mind and I almost chuckled.
"No honey, this is molasses," I pulled the container down from the self and began to pour it into the batter. " See, its like syrup."
"Can I have a taste?" She asked climbing back up onto her chair.
She stuck her finger into the thick rope of molasses flowing into the bowl, and tasted it. " This isn't Molasses- This is YUCKY Syrup!"