30 | P a g e
Blotted Moon Catherine Baker “Lily, you’ve got to go a liitttle faster…” Mia glances up from her task at me, and I do the same. She shows me a small distance between her index and thumb to emphasize her point. I roll my eyes with more sass than necessary. She crosses her own eyes and sticks out her tongue in return. I purse my lips in an effort not to laugh, which amuses her. Her laugh is contagious, and soon both our voices fill the air. They mix with the ensemble of Pentatonix voices coming from the black speaker above the kitchen sink. The smell of warm sugar wafts up from the cookies in front of us. I know she isn’t trying to be bossy or overbearing, and I know she’s right, but I really am trying my best. A group of cookies she’s already frosted stare up at me blankly. It’s my responsibility to add red and green sprinkles, but for some reason, I’m frustratingly slow today. Four of them are missing their embellishments, and their icing has already dried. It’s obvious because of the way the shine of the frosting becomes dull once it has dried. I’ve missed the window of opportunity to make the sprinkles stick. Annoyed, I try to add sprinkles to them anyways, but they simply sit at the surface. Mia picks up one of these lame attempts and turns it on its side to prove her point. All the sprinkles fall off, and I groan. She stays calm, though, and quickly adds more frosting. She’s not as easily aggravated as I am. Maybe that patience comes with age-- from being the older sister. Regardless, I’m grateful for another chance to complete my job correctly. This time, I add the decoration before the icing has time to dull. The sprinkles catch the attention of the glowing kitchen lights above us and make the sprinkles shimmer. They’re a little “globby” because of the extra icing, but it’s not too noticeable-- thankfully, the sprinkles cover up a multitude of sins. As we finish the last few cookies, Mia only frosts one at a time, in an effort to not leave me behind. After icing each cookie, she patiently waits for my touch of red and green before beginning to frost the next cookie. With the extra time in between, she leans against the counter, tapping her spatula to the beat of the music playing. She scans my work to make sure it's to her liking, nods without looking up, and continues frosting. The song switches to a fast remix of “Up on the Housetop,” and her drumming matches the song to a T. I watch out of the corner of my eye as her pink spatula flies up and down. This fast tempo encourages me to hurry up. Soon, I’m adding green sparkles to the last cookie. Examining the four trays of glittering cookies, I reach out my arm to begin to plate them, but Mia stops me. She patiently explains how the last couple of cookies need to completely dry to prevent a mess. We watch the last three cookies, then the last two, and then the final cookie becomes matte as we dance around the kitchen like two of Santa’s elves. We finally begin to place the trays’ contents on four separate disposable plates, and Mia wraps each plate with a special see-through paper. To finish, she uses her nimble and strong twelve-year older fingers to tie each plate closed with a
