Half-full or Half-empty?

As the children were taking their naps today (or rather, playing in their rooms, not taking naps) I looked at the two cookies sitting on my counter and lamented their outcome.  I made them with some left-ever dough, in order to try out some special “stamped” cookie cutters that my friend Lisa bought for my birthday.  An Easter egg and a little chick.  The cookies turned out great – but my decoration technique was terrible.

A few minutes later I was looking at a cookbook that I had out on my kitchen counter.  The author, Nigella Lawson, writes little commentaries in the middle of her recipes, and they are fun to read even if you don’t want to bake.   The book happened to be turned to a kids’ cookie page and I read the icing directions,

“Colour as desired; let the artistic spirit within you speak, remembering with gratitude that children have very bad taste.”

I laughed out-loud.  This is so true.  Just this morning, my boys also noticed these same two cookies, and were overjoyed.  Owen yelled, “Look Jack, look at these cute cookies!”  I just thought, “of course they would like it!” 

It didn’t help much when Owen said, “I will eat this cookie, and you can have the chickie.”  To which Jack countered, “No Owen, I want to eat the rocket.”

Just the other day, a good friend of mine told me that I really couldn’t be having a bad time because anyone who has time to sit around and make sugar cookies couldn’t have any real problems.  Since this person also happens to be a psychologist, I figure that was an authoritative finding.  I didn’t take the comment as insulting, and it wasn’t meant to belittle my feelings, which I know are valid.  But feelings, I think, have a lot to do with perspective.

And I like to think of myself as having a “half-full” perspective on life. 

I shouldn’t think, “Of course they would like it” when the kids are excited about the cookies, but, “Of course they would like it!”  I am happy that my boys are delighted by my gaudy cookies. (even if Jack can’t tell if it is an egg or a rocket…)

Later this afternoon Owen was looking again at the cookies.  His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked back and forth between the chick and egg.  I wondered what was bothering him and braced myself for the innocent insult that was coming.  After a few minutes, a big smile broke on his face and he called Jack over saying he wanted to explain his idea, “I know Jack.  Let’s break both cookies in half and then share.  That way we get some of each.”  My baby just couldn’t decide which one he wanted more.