I never really stopped feeling like an excited little girl on Christmas morning. Maybe it's just a shard of my human life I like to think of, hold onto. Maybe it's just the fact that Esme and Carlisle always buy the best gifts. Edward always lightens up around the holidays, as do I. And in recent Christmases, Emmett has made the season even better. Twas the night before Christmas…1943. We were finally all home together, and the final gifts were being wrapped. The TV was turned onto a random holiday special, and Edward was playing "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" on his piano. All the while, Em and I were curled up on the overstuffed new couch watching the picturesque scene before us. Five stockings hung over the hearth, all green velvet, with our names embroidered in silver thread. It looked so much like a normal human household, minus the Christmas feast. I stared out the window—this was the first white Christmas we had in a decade. The ground was coated with fine, powdery snow.
"Why do I have the urge to bake cookies?" Emmett thought out loud. Now I wanted to too! Even though we didn't eat them, we could give them to Carlisle to take to the hospital…
"Okay! Well, obviously, we don't have ingredients…we'll have to go out to the grocery shop!"
"How about…holiday sugar cookies…we can buy some dough."
"Great! Edward…wanna come?" wow, I really was full of holiday spirit, inviting Edward to go along with us…
"It's alright; I'll stay here…and…prepare the kitchen."
"Suit yourself…" Emmett and I strolled over to the front door and put our ankle leather boots on. Mine looked odd, harsh, with my full skirted day dress. Of course, we didn't feel the need to wear coats.
"We'll be back, Edward…Merry Christmas!"
***
"Okay…so it says 'preheat oven to 350…" Emmett said, pulling the first roll of Pillsbury dough out of the grocery bag.
"Kay'…place cookies on ungreased baking sheet…"
"Got it." He dropped the full roll onto the cookie pan
"We might want to cut the cookies apart, Em…" I giggled, doing the job myself
"Is that it?"
"Yep…"
***
"This house smells like smoke…" Edward noted. Wait…the cookies! It had been forty minutes, instead of the prescribed ten. Oh no…
"Em! Get the cookies! Now!" I shouted like a drill sergeant, running into the next room trailed by Emmett. Smoke was pouring out of the stove. I threw it open, and pulled the cookies out without bothering with a mitt.
"They're…a little well cooked…but still good?"
"Emmett. They're pure black. We don't want to poison the Carlisle's patients."
"Fine…Merry Christmas!"