A Holiday Get-Together Between Friends
20 December
Our house-elf, Calla, and I have been up to our elbows the last few days baking the family’s supply of Christmas goodies. Thank goodness we’re completely done now and because I made several extra batches of cookies just in case we run out, I decide that my luck is good enough to warrant asking my mum if I can have some friends over during the holiday.
So, apron in hand, I knock on my mum’s suite door. She answers it with quill in hand and an ink smudge on her own apron.
“Susan! I wasn’t expecting you until you were cleaned up down there,” Mum exclaims, looking rather delighted. “What brings you up here?”
I feel like a house-elf myself at the moment, but somehow tradition in this house always prevails. Ergh! This little tradition always embarrasses me. “Can I come in? I’ve secured the flour so it won’t coat anything white,” I say, grinning at my own cleverness.
Mum grins back, extending her hand to me. I walk into her suite as she says affectionately, “Yes, I remember that cute ten-year-old who wormed her way into helping Calla in the kitchen that year and then coated the house in white dust from the basement to the second floor as she ran to show her father her latest accomplishment.”
I can feel my neck growing red, but Mum delights in reminding me of that incident from eight years ago and I suppose I’ll be an old mum myself when she finally decides to stop telling that story to my own children some day.
I report Calla’s and my success and Mum says, winking at me, “Now, according to tradition, this is when you ask for permission to have some friends over. You know I approve whole-heartedly, so which evening would you like to terrorize Calla and her kitchen this year?”
“I was thinking the 27th, the day after Boxing Day. It’s my turn to host the Puff Girls’ Night Out and we wouldn’t be having a sleepover like we used to. Hannah’s married and I think Megan wants to share as much time with her family as she can this year,” I say. “We’ll be cleaned up and out making deliveries probably by ten o’clock, back by midnight, I think.”
Mum looks at me with concern. “You’ll be careful?”
“We always are,” I reply.
“Well, then, please wish Megan and Hannah ‘Happy Holidays’ from your father and me,” she says, giving me a hug. She sighs, pushing away from me and picking up a large stack of envelopes that are waiting for her to personalize with our family’s Christmas wishes. “I just wish I was done with my correspondence.”
“You’ll be through in two days, Mum,” I tell her, “you always are.”
She giggles. “I think I say that every year and you respond in kind, Susan. Until next year, then?”
I kiss her cheek. “Until next year, Mum. I’ll go write out my invitations now,” I say and close the door behind me. I Banish my apron to the scullery and head for my suite to write to Megan and Hannah.
Our house-elf, Calla, and I have been up to our elbows the last few days baking the family’s supply of Christmas goodies. Thank goodness we’re completely done now and because I made several extra batches of cookies just in case we run out, I decide that my luck is good enough to warrant asking my mum if I can have some friends over during the holiday.
So, apron in hand, I knock on my mum’s suite door. She answers it with quill in hand and an ink smudge on her own apron.
“Susan! I wasn’t expecting you until you were cleaned up down there,” Mum exclaims, looking rather delighted. “What brings you up here?”
I feel like a house-elf myself at the moment, but somehow tradition in this house always prevails. Ergh! This little tradition always embarrasses me. “Can I come in? I’ve secured the flour so it won’t coat anything white,” I say, grinning at my own cleverness.
Mum grins back, extending her hand to me. I walk into her suite as she says affectionately, “Yes, I remember that cute ten-year-old who wormed her way into helping Calla in the kitchen that year and then coated the house in white dust from the basement to the second floor as she ran to show her father her latest accomplishment.”
I can feel my neck growing red, but Mum delights in reminding me of that incident from eight years ago and I suppose I’ll be an old mum myself when she finally decides to stop telling that story to my own children some day.
I report Calla’s and my success and Mum says, winking at me, “Now, according to tradition, this is when you ask for permission to have some friends over. You know I approve whole-heartedly, so which evening would you like to terrorize Calla and her kitchen this year?”
“I was thinking the 27th, the day after Boxing Day. It’s my turn to host the Puff Girls’ Night Out and we wouldn’t be having a sleepover like we used to. Hannah’s married and I think Megan wants to share as much time with her family as she can this year,” I say. “We’ll be cleaned up and out making deliveries probably by ten o’clock, back by midnight, I think.”
Mum looks at me with concern. “You’ll be careful?”
“We always are,” I reply.
“Well, then, please wish Megan and Hannah ‘Happy Holidays’ from your father and me,” she says, giving me a hug. She sighs, pushing away from me and picking up a large stack of envelopes that are waiting for her to personalize with our family’s Christmas wishes. “I just wish I was done with my correspondence.”
“You’ll be through in two days, Mum,” I tell her, “you always are.”
She giggles. “I think I say that every year and you respond in kind, Susan. Until next year, then?”
I kiss her cheek. “Until next year, Mum. I’ll go write out my invitations now,” I say and close the door behind me. I Banish my apron to the scullery and head for my suite to write to Megan and Hannah.