On Christmas Eve we have a Pajama Jammie Jam. This allows my inner circle to exchange gifts with each other in one location. There is something for everyone to enjoy at the Pajama Jammie Jam. We eat, drink, play games, paint, build gingerbread houses, dance, take pictures in our pajamas, and of course exchange gifts.
This year my great-goddaughter is 3 years old and able to appreciate the festivities. (I call her queen of the stink face; because she has the most expressive face especially when aggravated.) We were winding down the event and hoping for a smooth transition from party to bed. When my great-godchildren started a conversation about Santa’s cookies. Being their GiGi, I did what any self-respecting GiGi would do. I agitated the situation. So, I say, “If you leave cookies out, I am coming to your house and eating them.” Just the right thing to start some trouble.
I am fully engrossed in a “No you not!” great-godchildren in unison. Reply from me, “Oh yes I am!” tit for tat battle. The parents began pleading for their children to not get riled up, explaining that I do not have a key to their homes. As I respond, “If he can get in, I can get in too.” The laughing parents are now petrified their children may never fall asleep. When I am attacked by a three-year-old.
It started with a stink face from across the room; and then my great-goddaughter leaps to her feet and run towards me. She climbs into my lap with fire in her eyes, grabs my cheeks so that I am staring her eyeball to eyeball, points in my face and yells “If you eat Santa’s cookies, I am going to call you the Cookie Girl!” Fight over! The entire room erupts into uncontrollable laughter, as I promise not to eat Santa’s cookies.
Yeah, I ate the cookies later but that is what Cookie Girls do.