Tonight I made cookies, something I haven’t done for a while. Why would I start baking after dinner? Did I have a sweet tooth now that all of the Christmas goodies are gone? Or was it that Ken really enjoys dessert and I didn’t have anything on hand. Actually I don’t really know. I suppose I could say, “Because.”
Whenever I hear the word “because” used as an answer I am reminded of a time when my children were young and they thought it was the end-all excuse for everything. There were four of them then, Debbie, our oldest, Julie, our second, and Kevin, our first boy, then Keith who was the baby (for a while). The two older girls had been involved in doing something rather naughty but now, after all this time, I don’t even remember what it was. Nevertheless, they were being scolded by a very irate mom (me). Looking down on their innocent faces all three looked up at this giant of a woman (from their very short vantage point) shaking her finger at them and asking the universal question, “Why did you do that?” They were speechless. Kevin, while not involved, looked at the twosome with great concerned eyes. Again, I asked, “Why?” No answer. Then Kevin elbowed his sister and whispered his advice. “Because.” Hearing no response, he whispered it once again but with more emphasis, “Because.” His thoughtful wisdom had shattered my annoyance. I walked away hiding my giggles; incident forgotten.
I mixed the cookie batter adding all the good things in the receipe. Ken came wandering into the kitchen, looked into the bowl and smiled, “Cookies?” For that moment, he was so my husband. Being sly, just the way he had been during all of those years in the past he reached into the bowl and pinched off a bit of dough. “Mmmmm,” he said, “good.” And from the past I said, “They’ll be better when they’re baked.” “I can wait,” he replied, pinching off another bite.
So why did I bake cookies tonight? I was pleasantly rewarded by a sweet moment, but I suppose that in this life we do a lot of things just “because.”
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