My mom and I were planning “Mark’s First Annual Christmas Cookie Party” (it was his idea, so he got to name it), and she was beyond excited. She has spent 20-plus years trying to get this family into the Christmas spirit when she finally discovered a partner in her new son-in-law.
“What cookies are we going to make?” she asked every time we were on the phone.
“I’m not really sure, Mom. I’ll probably get everything together the day of.”
My mom doesn’t like this plan. I can hear it in her silence. Her biggest fear is that on the ‘day of’ Marie will call and say “Nah, we’re not going to do the cookie party… I’m too lazy.”
So she let’s me know that she has already invested in said Christmas Cookie Party. Her logic is that if I see other people contributing and working to get this thing off the ground then I will be forced by human nature to reciprocate…
“Well,” she said, “I already bought some cookie cutters.”
“Yay! What kinds did you get?”
“Um, let’s see… I’ve got a snowman… and a gingerbread man… and a jay”
“A jay? What is a jay?”
“You know, the letter ‘J'”
“Are these Christmas cookie cutters? What does the letter ‘J’ have to do with Christmas?”
And then I heard my dad in the background…
“Not a ‘J’! A candy cane!”
The exasperation in his voice led me to believe that he had gone over this already.
“Oops,” she said sheepishly, “that’s right. A candy cane.”
I told everyone at the Christmas cookie party about her cookie cutter faux pas, and Mark in a move to solidify his spot as person my mom now loves the most said, “It is a ‘J’… ‘J’ is for Jesus!”
What a Christmas suck-up.