Just one more Valentine's Day story. The story isn't actually about Valentine's Day at all. But the story inspired Jack and I to make these for the man of our house:
Jack was instrumental to the dough making, dough testing, dough rolling, dough testing, dough cutting, and dough testing. And cookie frosting. And frosting testing.
The story was told to me by Brett's dad, Dean. It's the gosh-darn-it cutest story I've ever heard about my husband. Goes like this:
Dean went into four-year-old Brett's room one evening for the nightly tuck-in. He noticed that little Brett, already in pajamas and under covers, was staring off into nowhere, lost in thought. Dean sat on the bed next to little Brett. He quietly asked, "Brett, what'cha thinking about?"
Little Brett said, "I'm thinkin' about cookies."
Little Brett is all grown-up now, of course. A wife. Two children. A job. A mortgage. A 401(k). A really, really high-end computer for incredibly lifelike gaming. But every night, in the middle of the night, that grown-up Brett will still steal into a dark kitchen, open the pantry door, and grab two cookies. He'll gobble them down with secret sips directly from the milk carton. (He thinks they're secret sips, anyway.)
Another preschool party, another challenge--find the perfect valentine for Jack to make for his classmates. Like last year, we used lollipops as our muse. But this year, Jack cut the hearts, dotted the dots, and stuck the stickers. (This year's project idea came from Martha Stewart Kids magazine.)
He was even moved to write a little note on the back of each valentine:
So, from our family to yours, happy Valentine's Day. Jack would wish you a happy Balemtimes Day. Said it that way last year. Says it that way this year. (It's just too darn cute to correct. I'm keeping my mouth shut.)