A Not-So-Norman Rockwell Sort Of Christmas

Now that Molly is old enough to understand and be excited about Christmas, I really wanted to start some traditions that we can carry on through the years. You know, Norman Rockwell kind of moments.
k
What better tradition that to bake cookies to leave for Santa on Christmas Eve? So on December 23rd we started the process (Hey, at least I am smart enough to start a day early).
l
It all started out innocently enough. First thing in the morning, we pulled out the recipe book and the ingredients and got cooking. Note the cute little gingerbread person pictured in the cookbook. That was our goal. Should be easy enough. k
Molly loves to help me cook and is so proud of herself every time she completes a step. So far, so good. Things are still feeling Norman Rockwell-ish, right? k
For the most part, cookie mixing went off without too many problems.
k
Well, there was the unfortunate incident where I accidentally set the mixer to high instead of low, but we both had a good laugh over that:

k
The gingerbread dough had to chill for several hours, so we left the baking portion of the cookie making until after dinner. We both got a little dirty:

l

Acted a little silly:

And ate a lot of cookie dough, but we were still candidates for the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.

l

Because of the late hour I decided that we would have to leave cookie decorating for Christmas Eve morning. Seemed like smart planning. Even I know not to start an activity too close to bedtime.
l

The next morning we woke, ate breakfast and then pulled out all of the cookie decorating paraphernalia. Molly started out great. She put little buttons and eyes on the each little gingerbread man, while I manned the icing bag.

k
Then things slowly started to head south. First, Molly started sampling the icing. No problem. I was sampling it, too.

Then Molly tried a few of the M&M buttons. Still no problem. I was way ahead of her in the M&M consumption. Eat up darling.

The real problem started after the sugar buzz set in...both hers and mine. Molly started eat candy decorations hand over fist. I pleasantly reminded her not to eat too many, or she would get a tummy ache (yes, that it the way I chose to remember it).

This was met by defiant handfuls of candy being shoved into her mouth. Then a devilish grin that just begged to say, "Hey lady, just try and stop me from eating candy . I dare you."

Time out #1 soon followed.

Upon returning to the table, Molly glared at me and then began to dump handfuls of sprinkles onto the floor.

Don't mess with me whist I am on a sugar high, my dear sweet child. Time out #2 for you.

I won't go into vivid description of the events that followed, but let's just say that my angel managed to suck every bit of enjoyment out of the whole decorating experience. Mr. Rockwell must have been rolling over in his grave.

In the end, some of the cookies did get decorated:

k
Molly was even allowed to eat some of her handiwork:

Amazingly enough, she even offered to share a cookie with her Grinch-mother:

A

And Santa ended up with a nice assortment of cookies:

H

Hmmm, maybe we'll get that Norman Rockwell memory next year.