The pumpkin cookies

I briefly mentioned last week that with Hubby's help, I made pumpkin shaped cutout sugar cookies and orange frosting (a double batch of both). Saturday Hubby went to help his brother work on some house projects, so I was left to frost all 80 cookies on my own. I pulled out my frosting, the stacks of sugar cookies and my favorite frosting utensil (pampered chef spreader thingy). I noted with some trepidation that my frosting seemed to be quite stiff. I warmed it in the microwave for a few seconds and it softened some. So I sat down and set to work. I got no further than cookie #1 when I realized something was not right. The frosting would not stick to the cookie. I threw clumps of frosting on the cookie and attempted to smear them around a little, but this resulted in the most unattractive pumpkin cookie I have ever seen. Panic began to well up inside me. I warmed the frosting 10 more seconds. Cookie #2 attempted. Problem not solved. Throwing my treasured pampered chef spreader thingy back in the frosting bowl, I put my head in my sticky hands and tried oh so hard to maintain control of myself.

I had done this before...many times. What had I done wrong. How could I fix it. What was wrong with me. How could I be a good mother if I couldn't even manage to frost a simple sugar cookie. Would Hubby still love me if he was forced to eat 80 very plain, unadorned, unfrosted pumpkin cookies.

Deep breaths.

Somewhere deep inside me resides the rational, reasonable, not-easily-panicked girl that Hubby married. Fortunately, she rose to the surface. Springing (sort of) into action, I added a few teaspoons of milk to the frosting, warmed it up just slightly, and mixed it to a glossy, smooth, glorious, drippy consistency which when applied to aforementioned pumpkin cookies, stuck like glue. I could have cried for joy. Instead I clapped for myself. Here's where any victorious story should end.

However, the above events repeated themselves several times over. As the frosting cooled and hardened, the panic returned. And just as fortunately the calm cool collected me would rise to the surface just in time and add a little milk and heat and the crisis would be averted once again.

Victory came when all 80 cookies were frosted and laid out in glorious fashion on the kitchen table. I am pleased to report that not a single tear was actually shed in this whole experience. Go ahead, you can clap for me. I earned it.