A tough cookie

I’m not sure how old I was when the following took place – I’d guess eight, give or take a year. Mom was baking for some kind of bake sale so the kitchen was cluttered and full of delicious things which we could not eat.

Oh, I’m sure my sister and I got to lick various bowls and beaters, and probably got to sample cookies too. But you know how Moms are – everything good will spoil your lunch or if it’s after lunch, it’ll spoil your dinner.

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