Teaston

United States

Message to Readers

This was originally an English memoir that was originally double the length. I'm proud of it and I never get a chance to see this side of my Mom anymore, which makes this a bittersweet memory for me.

I Liked Making Snowmen With Mom

May 15, 2019

Today in class we learned that we were going to be watching the movie version of Charlotte’s Web in class in a few days and that if we wanted to make something and bring it in to share with the class, we could, we just had to have one of our parents tell our teacher and drop it off with us. Now, I am standing in the kitchen with my Mom, barely able to see the counter, dark brown curls pulled back into a ponytail because having your hair in your face isn’t healthy when you cook or bake. I also already washed my hands, because germs are yucky.
“Hey, Mom, can I wear the John Deere apron, pllleeeaaassseeee????” I beg to wear the dark green fabric outlined in a bright mustard yellow along with the logo being the same shade. I absolutely adore that apron. Despite its extreme bigness on me, I always have loved that apron because I both loved feeling like a big kid, and my Mom also loves it. Wearing an apron is to help keep your clothes clean in case any accidents happen while it was being worn.
“Hmm, well I don’t know… alright, for today.” she laughed jokingly as she took it down from its place hanging on the brown, wooden, foot and a half-width pantry door. She put the top strap around my head and folded some of the fabric up onto itself then wrapped the ties around the fabric that was on my waist and tied it in the back with a bow with there being about 3.5” of unused ribbon hanging down to pull from for when we were done and ready to clean up.
    We are ready to start working.
“Alright, so you know what we’re making tonight?” she asked me, looking at me in the eyes with a smile on her face. Excitedly, I shook my head no. “We’re making snowman pretzels!”
    I clapped my tiny hands together, getting ready to take a step up onto the step stool so I could help with whatever I could.
    Mom told me more details about what we were making. Like how she found the recipe in a Food Network magazine. And how there were going to be chocolate chips as well as white chocolate, and there were Twizzlers used and tied around the pretzel rods as scarves. Quickly, she warmed up the white chocolate in a double boiler like a situation where there was a bowl over boiling water to melt the chocolate. To help me not be so impatient and to keep me busy, she had me set pretzels onto some parchment paper on a cookie sheet.
    Eventually, the chocolate had been melted and I was a little impatient to start decorating them. I was super excited to dip them that I barely caught what my Mom was saying about being careful and how much she trusted me with not getting hurt.
    “Now Ella, I know that you can’t wait to decorate the pretzels, but watch me do one first to make sure you don’t get too much chocolate onto it when you dip it in.” she showed me a sample, putting it onto the wax paper. She brought over the bowl of warm melted chocolate to help minimize the risk that I might get hurt.
    I dipped the pretzel into chocolate, just like how Mom showed me putting it onto the wax paper. Frowning, I said, “it doesn’t look like yours. There’s too much chocolate.”
“That’s what makes it special. If they all looked like mine, there would be no variety, and that’s no fun, right?”
    “Hmmm… maybe you’re right. Oops. I got chocolate on my hands. What should I do?”
    “Just let it be. Once everything is all made you can eat it off of your hands.”
    “Oh, okay.”
    We continued to dip pretzels into the chocolate and eventually, the pretzels were covered, and we had to let them set in the freezer for 10 minutes before decorating. During that break, I licked all of the chocolate that had found its way onto my tiny fists, then rewashed my hands. Mom also rewashed hands, but then instead of dancing to the music that was playing in the background like I was, she actually did something I can’t quite see, so I just keep dancing, making sure to keep my clean hands away from any surfaces, but still insist on rewashing my hands before going back into the kitchen. There are mini chocolate chips, Twizzlers, orange sprinkles, and frosting in piping bags with a very very small tip (at this point in life I can now recognize that it was a size 1 tip that was used for maximum control, back to the story) at the end of each of the two.
    “Ready to start decorating the pretzels?” Mom asks me, opening up the freezer and taking out the now fully set pretzels.
    “Yeah!” I was giddy with excitement.
    “Okay, but first let me show you how to decorate them. That sound like a plan?” she got a satisfactory look from me and continued, “Okay, so what we do first is we pick up the piping bag, and put a little bit of frosting on the back of a chocolate chip and stick it onto the middle-top of the pretzel. Now, put a little frosting wherever you want the nose to go and put an orange sprinkle there. Then you take a Twizzler and put a bit of frosting on the other side of the pretzel, like this, and wrap one side to the front of the pretzel, using a little bit frosting to hold it on, then take the other side, put on a bit of frosting, and stick it onto the first side of Twizzler to make a scarf. That sound like a plan Peter Pan?”
    “Yea, but can you do the scarves? I wanna do the eyes and nose.”
    “Whatever works, okie dokie?”
    “Okie dokie!”

 

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