By Christmas morning. Owen woke at 5:47 AM, which is not a schedule I would have chosen but which is the schedule he has chosen, and I brought him into our bed and he looked at the dark ceiling and made small sounds of contentment and I lay there thinking about last Christmas Eve, which was the last Christmas Eve before they existed in the world as people who wake up at 5:47 AM on Christmas morning. That was less than a year ago. This is the thing about having children: time becomes double-exposed.
We did presents after Ryan had made coffee. Owen was not interested in the presents. Owen was interested in the wrapping paper, which he could crumple, which was, in his assessment, the actual gift. Nora opened her present with methodical focus, removing each piece of tape before pulling back the paper, which: she is ten months old and she did this, and I believe it is a harbinger of everything she is going to be.
They got a push-and-pull wagon from Steve and Patty, which currently lives in the middle of the living room because there is nowhere else to put it and also it is the focal point of everything now, and a set of stacking cups that make sounds, and seventeen stuffed animals from various relatives who apparently needed to purchase a stuffed animal when confronted with the existence of our children. I support this. They are good stuffed animals.
Christmas dinner was leftovers from Christmas Eve at Steve and Patty's, reheated in my own kitchen, eaten at my own table, with Ryan across from me and both babies in their highchairs eating pureed sweet potato and looking at the tree lights. It was simple and it was right and I did not cook anything and nobody needed me to and that was the gift.
That Christmas, nobody needed me to cook anything — and I didn’t. But come mid-afternoon, once both babies were down for their naps and the wagon was still parked in the middle of the living room and the tree lights were still on, I found myself wanting just a little something sweet and uncomplicated to mark the day. These sugar cookie slices are exactly that: no fuss, no performance, just a good, simple cookie that tastes like Christmas without asking anything of you. I made a batch while the house was quiet, and Ryan and I ate them with our second cups of coffee, and that felt exactly right.
Sugar Cookie Slices
Prep Time: 15 minutes + 1 hour chilling | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 27 minutes | Servings: 36 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
- 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 3 tablespoons colored sugar or sprinkles, for rolling
Instructions
- Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
- Add egg and extracts. Beat in the egg, vanilla extract, and almond extract until fully combined.
- Mix in dry ingredients. Add the flour, baking powder, and salt, and mix on low speed until a soft dough forms. Do not overmix.
- Shape the log. Divide the dough in half. Shape each half into a log about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Roll each log in colored sugar or sprinkles to coat the outside.
- Chill the dough. Wrap each log tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or until firm enough to slice cleanly.
- Preheat and slice. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Unwrap the chilled logs and slice into rounds about 1/4 inch thick. Place on ungreased baking sheets, spacing about 1 inch apart.
- Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden. The centers will look slightly underdone — that’s right. They firm up as they cool.
- Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 2 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 98 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 30mg