Pop Goes the Cookie
Jennifer Flaten

You know how they, whoever they may be, say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. They aren’t correct. I would have to say the road to hell is actually paved with cookie pops.

After today, I am convinced. Before, I once was merely suspicious. Now, I am sure I suffer from mom-nesia. Don’t worry it isn’t fatal.

Yep, mom-nesia; how else would you explain my willingness to make 100 homemade cookie pops for the kids to take as a birthday snack? Before you blame my children I have to admit this was 100% my idea.

Yes, my idea; was I under the influence at the time? Well, not the result of anything illicit, I can tell you. I was labouring under that rosy vision all moms have of working on a project with their children. You know the vision, where everyone is clean, tidy and getting along.

Really, this is any mom’s number one fantasy. Coming in a close second is also a wild fantasy. Namely, that someone, anyone, will, just this once, pick up that pile of whatever it is that is crumpled in a heap in the middle of the living room.

Hell it could be a cookie, a corpse or a pile of diamonds. It makes no difference; everyone steps around it, over it or sometimes through it never once picking it up.

Sorry, let me hop off my mom-box, which is sort of like a soapbox, and get back to my cookie story. I blame the cooking magazine. All that airbrushing and studio lighting made the cookie pops look so cute, so easy to make.

The recipe consisted of only four ingredients; how hard could it be? As I gazed at the little sprinkle covered orbs, you know I have a weakness for sprinkles, I remember thinking how wonderful it would be for the kids to not only take these as their birthday treat but participate in the making of them.

It seems in addition to the mom-nesia, I also suffer a severe case of Martha Stewartiti, again, not fatal. I have no idea who I thought would actually be in the kitchen with the kids making my staff. I surely didn’t see my short-tempered, even shorter attention spanned self in the kitchen helping the kids roll 100 little balls of cookie goodness.

Why 100, well, because I am an idiot! Because I said, out loud, that all the kids take their snack in at the same time. Somehow, I thought this would be more efficient, somebody stop me! The minute the words were out of my mouth I wanted to snatch them back, but no such luck.

With kids, saying it equals doing it. Unless you want them to nag you to death, actually, death or a margarita would be quite welcome after an afternoon of cookie pop making.

We did make it through the afternoon without loss of life or limb, although we did suffer causality. My favorite spatula encountered, fatally, the blades of the food processor.

How you ask? There were three competitive kids and one adult working in a small space together. Need I say more?