Learning to bake again

By the age of ten I could bake my mother's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with only an occasional oops. I never knew if I'd have children, but if I did, I swore I would make these cookies for them. I'd wait until they were tucked in bed and then turn the mixer on, while they struggled to keep quiet. As the oven door opened with the first batch, they would tip toe out of bed, looking sleepy and too darn cute, and beg for 'just one' and then many, as I did when I was young. The chocolate chip cookie...