My Mom is baking
Christmas cookie baking.
As soon as she stands where I can see her feet from my crate, I know it's going to involve food.
And when she pulls out the bins of flour and sugar and sets them on top of my crate, well then I know, it's going to be sweet baking.
I am up immediately, snuffling around, looking for bits of anything that might have fallen.
I see her mixing, then rolling, then beloved cookie cutters are used. I know frosting will be made (yummy, yummy, yummy!) and then the question I have to ask:
Mom, do you need help with the sprinkles?
And I'll only eat the first seven cookies I touch.
I'll save the rest for later.