…A cold.

Technically, my true love didn’t give me this cold. My little love did. After doctoring on him all last week, he happily shared his little germs with me. I had so many plans to make cookies with the kids, fix some greens, play with them with all of their new toys. But my cold came on and all I wanted to do was snuggle in pajamas in bed, but alas, small children don’t empathize with you when you have a cold.

I vow that empathy will be my next home lesson. Thankfully, my husband is off for the next few days, so he can help entertain the children.
Still, I did my best to make them a good breakfast which they asked for immediately after covering the floor with wrapping paper.
Usually, I do a breakfast pizza, and that would’ve been easier, but wouldn’t you know I left half the ingredients at the store. Well, I wasn’t going back. Instead, I decided to make something that we already had on hand: biscuits.
I think that was a mistake. Even though I’m a southern lady, I can’t make biscuits no better than a cat can bark. But nevertheless, I was knuckle deep in flour and wanted to get the sticky mess in the oven.
Slathered with butter and jam the biscuits came out fine…enough, but here’s what I learned:
1. butter needs to be super cold, kept in the freezer for ten -2o minutes at least.
2. You have to move quickly
3. if you don’t have salt, Himalayan pink salt will not work
4. Don’t make biscuits when you have a cold
Nevertheless, my family ate them. Me and Nyquil hopped in bed for a few hours.
Now technically the first day of Christmas is the partridge in the pear tree; a representation of Jesus. Well, you know what? I’m definitely thanking Jesus.
I’m thanking Him for my hot medicinal tea, some honey and lemon, and some cough drops and also for the wonderful world of medicine.

Cheers to all and to all a goodnight!