Cookie dough, laughter, and a kitchen

The sugary smell of cookie dough lifts into my nostrils as I stir its thick concoction. My blue-eyed daughter giggles behind me, snuggled protectively against her fathers chest. I turn sideways, watching my husband tickle our Elizabeth until her laughter turns to joyful screams. Heavy breaths leave my pale skinned daughter as she glares annoy-idly at her daddy. He chuckles at her, stealing homemade cookie dough from the deserted bowl with his finger. Elizabeth's eyes brighten at the sight of such a treat. My husband moves his fingers from side to side then up and down; watching our daughter's pupils follow its every movement. Drool slowly slips from her small lips, landing like misguided teardrops on her soft chin. Impatience overtakes Elizabeth, guiding her porcelain hands towards the gooey dough on her father's taunting finger. She snatches it and giggles triumphantly, thrusting the food of the Gods into her awaiting mouth. Cookie dough is truly the secret to a child's heart.





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