My kitchen is a disaster, but it’s for a good cause. Operation Christmas Eve Cookies for Santa commenced an hour ago, and Lucy, Madeline, and I can barely get through the recipe without laughing hysterically. There are rolling pins in the sink and flour covers the floor. Ceramic mixing bowls with raw cookie dough sit on the island, and the oven is slowly preheating. ‘Jingle Bells’ blares from Madeline’s phone, and she signs the lyrics to Lucy who shimmies like she’s dancing.
