Christmas Puddles

The other day Megan and I were invited to a mother/daughter cookie exchange. Since I have no homemaking abilities I begged Alicia, the resident guru of goodies, to help Megan make no-bake cookies.
The girls had just finished scooping the last pile of oatmeal goodness onto the tray when it was time to go. As we rushed out the door, I noticed that the cookies were so hot, they were melting into flat little brown puddles. In desperation, I opened the car window and held the pan out in the cold air while we drove in order to dam up the puddling. It didn't work.
I tried to hide our sorry contribution as we walked into the multi-million dollar house where the exchange was being held. We were shown into the breakfast nook, surrounded by more windows than we have in our whole house. The table was filled with cutesy plates piled with stacks of fudge, sprinkled cookies, and fancy desserts. We pushed them to the side so there would be room for our wax-papered cookie sheets spotted with watery piles of oatmeal. Then we hurriedly left the evidence behind and joined the group as if nothing were amiss.
The time for exchanging was announced and, with a pounding heart and red face, I asked for a spatula to scoop our soggy piles. The girls circled the table helping themselves to the the stacks of tasty treats then they waited while I slopped three brown puddles onto the tissue paper at the bottoms of their cookie boxes.