Missing Ingredient

I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I'm gonna venture out on a limb here & proclaim that I have in my possession THE best sugar cookie recipe in all the land. It's a family recipe, one that was passed down to me from Jared's cousin Kelly, & I'm not kidding when I say that I have yet to bite into a Christmas sugar cookie that trumps this one. It's soft, buttery, sugary & scrumptious & I believe I could whoop some major booty in a cookie baking contest if it came down to it. Don't believe me? Bring it. 

People beg me for the recipe. Neighbors double check to make sure I'll be delivering them come Christmastime, & around our house, they barely last long enough to be frosted because two boys are standing by to gobble them up the second they slide off that piping hot baking pan. 

For real, they're awesome. 

Yet in all the years I've been baking these cookies, it has never once dawned on me that there's been one single missing ingredient in these self proclaimed perfect Christmas treats of mine. An ingredient that packs a punch, kicks these babies up a notch & makes them taste just a tad better than all the years past. 

That missing ingredient?

My boy.

Oh my, did we have a fun time. He kneaded & rolled, laughed & giggled.

He meticulously placed each shiny, metal cookie cutter in the place of his choice {some on top of the other} & made it his mission to make sure not a single one got left out {even the ones I never like to use, like the nutcracker & gingerbread girl--you can never tell what they are once they're baked}.

He concentrated extremely hard & took this cookie making job quite seriously, only stopping to take a taste of the dough every once in awhile.

{Check out those lips. Those are his concentrating lips. They come out when he is focused very intently on something. I die.}

He was so proud of himself-- from the KU apron he was sporting {Thank you, Grandma!}, to standing on the little stool that he's usually forbidden to climb on--this kid thought he was big stuff. 

And you should've seen that face of his when he sunk his baby teeth into the fruits of his labor--a golden, cooked to perfection, Christmas sugar cookie. He chuckled, savored, & of course begged for another one.

This little boy, he puts the merry, the magical, the cheer & the twinkle into this childlike season. And just like my sugar cookies, I once thought I had it all in this life, had everything down to an art. That was until this little ingredient came along & seasoned our life in a way that we never knew possible. He adds a burst of energy that kicks life up a notch, packs a punch of flavor, & makes everything taste just a little bit sweeter.

You won't find that in the aisles of your local grocery store.