25Dec09

When I was in first grade a girl in my brother’s class (I think her name was Kate) swore up and down that she once saw Santa’s boot in her chimney as he was leaving. I was enamored of this girl, I can picture her Christmas scenario to this day, and I begged my mother that year to let me sleep on the couch so that I could witness Santa firsthand. We didn’t have a chimney, but that didn’t deter me. For some reason (maybe my parents told me this?), I imagined that Santa shrank and fit beneath the crack under the door. I made Santa cookies with Christmas trees on them and my mother let me sleep on the couch and of course I fell dead asleep and missed the entire event. It was the same every year.

Yesterday I made Christmas cupcakes, the Funfetti kind. They’re Christmas because the frosting is red and green. I don’t really like Funfetti, but the spirit of Christmas is doing things you don’t want to do for other people. Right? Isn’t that right?

In the Netherlands, they put hagelslag on top of a piece of bread. I find it questionable, but I’d try it, given my love for hagelslag. Hagelslag are sprinkles.

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