My son had this past Friday off from school. Imagine me, standing before the calendar and thinking to myself, “Only two weeks into school and already the teachers are shipping them home?” Haven’t they a care for my poor nerves? to quote the always quotable Mrs. Bennett. And since it was only the littlest hero and me at home, we decided to bake cookies. He loves the measuring and the mixing, and we all love cookies, so it’s a win all over the house. The first step was the debate over what sort of cookies to make: Chocolate chip? No, Nick doesn’t like those. Sugar cookies? No, not Dad’s favorite. Quite frankly, I’ve never met a cookie I’d turn down, but go figure that my house of men are picky about such simple things. We finally settled upon an old favorite recipe for gingersnaps, which everyone in the house loves but then we had to make sure we had all the ingredients. And it was about then, as I was hunting around the cupboard for molasses, that I realized how much baking cookies for one’s family is like writing romance novels for your fans. I smiled as I pulled out…

For many years, I was the official “cookie baker” for my family’s holiday get-togethers. Chocolate chip cookies were my specialty, but I dabbled in sugar, chocolate, apple, creamy fillings, and other gourmet styles, too. As the years passed, and I became busier at work, I grew less entranced with the prospect of baking dozens of cookies under enormous time constraints. In fact, to me, baking cookies for the holidays became a duty, not a pleasure. Then came the year when I was up past midnight completing the task. I was irritated and snappy. The next day, I grumbled to my husband that this had to stop. “I’m too busy to bake all these cookies!” I complained. And, cleverly, I thought, I asked him to call my mother and tell her that I was no longer going to bake cookies. He declined. The next year, as cookie-baking time approached, I girded myself, picked up the phone and said, “Ma, I’ve made a decision. I’m just too busy. This year, I’m not going to bake cookies. I’m going to buy them instead.” I’d expected a long, sad silence, followed by, “All right, dear,” or some similar, kindly worded phrase that left me…