The Snowman Debacle

Harm, coming back from his seven-mile run, pushes the sliding glass door open to find his beautiful wife covered in flour and dough. Shortly after she found out she was pregnant, she discovered that she had a fondness for baking. Even though his body is slicked with sweat, he comes up behind her, and wraps his arms around her burgeoning middle, resting his head on her shoulder. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and says, "Good morning, beautiful. How are my girls doing this morning?"

Mac wrinkles her nose. Before she got pregnant, she would love the smell of sweat mixed with Harm's cologne and his natural aroma. She discovered during her first trimester that her sense of smell was in overdrive, and things that she normally enjoyed the scent of made her suddenly want to puke. She couldn't even stand to be around a pot of freshly made coffee, which Harm teased her about relentlessly. She had hoped it would abate as her pregnancy progressed, but thus far no luck. Now, the only time she can stomach the scent of sweat is when they are engaged in amorous activities, probably because her other senses take over then, and she can't really distinguish the various scents. It's a damn good thing too! If they had to remain celibate for the entire length of her pregnancy, they would probably have killed each other by now. They spent so many years building up the sexual tension, that once it was finally released, they never wanted to contain it again.

She tells him, "Your girls are doing just fine." She turns, and lightly pushes him away. She scolds, "However, you mister, need a shower."

Harm sticks out his lower lip, and pouts like a lost little boy. "Can I get one kiss first?"

Mac rolls her eyes at him before relenting and giving him a quick peck on the lips. Harm tries to deepen the kiss, but Mac pulls away. She teases, "That's a very nice smile and I'm sure most of the time it gets you what you want, but not right now."

Harm eyes her, suggestively, full Flyboy grin in place, and says, "Oh, I think it has gotten me everything that I want."

Mac shakes her head, "No way, Sailor. Your charm is not going to work on me right now. I've got cookies to bake, and a deadline to meet."

Harm questions, "Deadline?"

Mac replies, "Yes. I promised Harriet I would bake some cookies for AJ's bake sale at school."

Harm gets the pouty look again, he was hoping for some nice, gooey chocolate chip cookies that he could lick off her lips. He sulks, "You mean you aren't baking cookies for us?"

Mac smiles, "I suppose I could make a few extra on one condition: You go take a Marine shower so that you can come help me."

Harm starts to head towards the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, "Aye, Aye, Ma'am! But I'm not washing with any of those girly scents you keep in our bathroom. I have a reputation to protect!"

Mac simply laughs at her husband's silliness, and goes back to her task at hand of strategically placing rolls of dough to make snowman sugar cookies.

Harm emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered, and dressed in a pair of ass hugging jeans and a blue t-shirt that shows off his rippled muscles, ten minutes and forty-three seconds later.

He reaches over, and wipes a speck of flour off Mac's cheek, as he asks, "What can I do to help?"

Mac says, "Can you check the cookies in the oven, they should be just about ready."

Harm grabs a potholder, and turns the tray in the oven, seeing that the cookies are browning around the edges. He pokes a finger in one to see if they are solid, and when he gets a closer look at the objects, he lets out a full belly laugh as he pulls both trays out of the oven.

Mac asks, "What's so funny? Are they done yet?"

Harm places the trays on the cooling rack on the counter. Leaving the cookie sheets behind his back, he turns and folds his arms over his chest. He smirks, "Yes, they are done. But you won't be able to use these for AJ's bake sale I'm afraid."

Mac looks up from her kneading, "Why not? I told you that I would make some extra for us."

Harm laughs, "And that's fine. Can I ask what shape you were trying to make?"

Mac looks at him like he is stupid, as she exclaims, "Snowmen of course. It is nearing Christmas time."

Harm smiles, "Umm, Mac…You might want to come take a look at these before you make any others the same way."

Mac fusses, "Why? What's wrong with them?"

Harm simple chuckles, "Just come look."

Mac waddles over to where he is in a huff, and pushes him aside so that she can look at the cookies. Her hand immediately flies to her mouth, "Oh My God!" She looks down at the cookie sheet, realizing that her proportions were way off when she was placing the dough. Instead of having three nice round circles of varying sizes to compile a snowman's bottom, middle, and head, she has something very different. The bottom section of the cookie spread out to resemble a well-rounded sac, the middle and top sections perfectly look like a penis that slightly bends to one side or the other at the top. There is definitely a head there, but not one that belongs to an innocent snowman. One of them even has a little dot where Harm must have stuck his finger in it. Every single cookie on both sheets is definitely not suitable for a school bake sale!

They spend the next several hours perfecting the dimensions of the dough so that they have six dozen beautiful snowman, and a couple dozen regular chocolate chip cookies. After they have cleaned the kitchen, they are sitting down at the table when Mac takes one of the offensive cookies and places it in her mouth. She chuckles, "Well, the bright side is if I tell you I ate a dick for lunch you can't get mad at me."

Harm, who was also putting a cookie in his mouth of the chocolate chip variety, drops both his jaw and his cookie.

Mac simply smiles as she chews, "Don't ever mess with a Marine!"

A/N: I needed to put my note at the end, as I didn't want to give away the story. Part of this was based on a true story. I highly recommend if you use the rolls of Pillsbury dough to make snowman, that you are very careful how big or small you make each section. My son got a rather big kick out of it, and my poor mother, who is a very good Catholic girl, was thoroughly embarrassed with the cookies she made.