Mele Kalikimaka

“LET’S MAKE CHRISTMAS COOKIES AND WATCH HALLMARK SHOWS!” Bekki said excitedly.  “IT’LL BE FUN!”

Define “fun” I thought as I watched the mayhem unfold.  (Note to self:  If I ever build another house the kitchen will have a floor drain and at least two garden hose connections on the walls.)

As projects go (and I have A LOT of them pending before the holidays) Christmas cookies sounded fun.  But then I remembered the territorial hockey game that happens every time Bekki and I find ourselves in the kitchen at the same time.  Quite simply, I get ass-nudged and hip checked around our puny work island until I draw a foul and find myself in the penalty box.  I’ve realized over the past several years that kitchen hockey is a lifeskill Bek acquired from her mother; a passive aggressive domain claim, like grizzly bears clawing trees to mark their territory.

I walked into the kitchen finding several bowls of pastel colored Easter frosting.  Soupy thin by frosting standards but everyone has their secret recipes for stuff.  I spooned out a few teaspoons of the watery mess into a couple of small bowls, thickened it with spoonfuls of powdered sugar, and made my own colors. I like bright colors.  It must be a guy thing.

I learned I was doing it wrong.  Before this project I didn’t know frosting is supposed to “soak in.”

I watched the master baker create.  

“What’s that?” I asked, looking at one of her creations.

“A crab!” Bekki said, looking over her glasses with a big smile.

“REALLY BEK?  A Christmas crab?  It’s supposed to be Santa.  You have it sideways,” I said.

She paused for a few seconds, staring at her creation.  “Well the cutters aren’t marked.  How am I supposed to know what that thing’s supposed to be! Are you gonna be all critical or are you going to make some?”

I reluctantly picked up a cookie.  The goalie immediately came outta the box and blocked my every move.

Instead of falling into the predictable territorial grizzly kitchen trap, I employed Christmas guy-psychology. Call it “guycology.”

 It worked.

“THAT’S NOT CHRISTMASSY!  YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!” She said, taking a picture of my creation to share with her friends to validate that I am indeed the Grinch.

“Come on Bek, It’s very Chrismassy!  I call it mele kalikimaka!” I said, moving the little hula dancer and singing the only words that I know to the song… the title.

As projects go, it was fun to watch Bekki get in the holiday spirit and make Christmas crabs.  I’m almost certain there will be a second round of holiday baking when the kids come home.

Mele Kalikimaka to all!