The tray of chocolate chip cookies comes out of the oven and hmm. They don't look right. These are her speciality and they are flat and smooshed out and large. We chit chat and decide she used the largest cookie scooper. She decided to downsize. The second tray goes in and for some reason she checks on them and it's happening again. Cookie dough spreading out to be a flat pancake?
She's made a double batch. They don't seem to have enough flour and she agrees, adding more. Now she can barely stir the blob of dough in the mixer. I half smile and wonder; too much flour? It was one of those moments with a wondering should I ask and I decided to in a sheepish voice.
I feel like I'm watching a balloon deflate right in front of me. Plans of dropping these off to friends floating away. Negative talk emerges - something to the effect of being a failure, I can't make cookies, a feeling that the world was crashing down. I site bailing the biggest sister out from multiple monkey bread flops. It's not working. She goes to the couch to rest.
I clean up the double batch fail. Clean the dishes and rally her to try again. I leave the kitchen and return to find her laying on the kitchen floor while a batch bakes. We both agree this is very tiring. I check in to see how the first batch is going and success. We are in the clear!
During dinner there's a note card for me in an envelope near my plate. I open the envelope and find a message on the front of the card - She makes the world a better place and the inside said...
And to think a chocolate chip cookie flop made me a hero and yes they were delicious and shared with her girlfriends. We all won this day.
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