Page 76 of The Santa Rules
“Is she always like this?” he asks, gesturing a thumb at her.
“I am, and I’m a delight,” she volleys back.
“That you are. You’re getting after-school Delilah, not Principal Adams. Back to what I was saying. My kid comes running upstairs, proud of his discovery.”
“He never did find the rest of the cookie cutters,” Delilah says, throwing away the butter wrappers as she pulls out the sugar.
He watches in awe as Delilah and I work together as a team, her mixing as I grab the rest of the dry ingredients. “So, you made dick cookies?”
“I’m a single mom who survives off an IV drip of coffee. If it made him happy, I didn’t give a fuck what shape it was. And he thought it was funny. It was one of the first times I’d seen him laugh since the divorce. So, we made dick cookies.”
“But we didn’t stop there!” Delilah adds.
He shakes his head “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like where this is headed?”
I smile at him across the island. “It became a tradition in our house. Anyone can have a cookie decorating contest, but only the elite make cock cookies.”
Delilah comes up beside me, wiping her hands on her apron. “I wanted to call them dick cookies because it sounded softer.”
“No one wants a soft dick in their mouth, Delilah.” We break out into laughter, realizing what I just said. “Besides, I like the way cock cookies sounds. The alliteration. Cock cookies. It has more oomph than dick. Cock feels heftier in your mouth.”
“I’d like a hefty cock in my mouth,” Delilah says.
“Gives new meaning to eat a dick, eh?”
We dissolve into another fit of laughter. This is my happy place during the holidays, in my aunt’s kitchen, surrounded by laughter, making phallic cookies. “Like I was saying, we have a cock cookie competition. Say that three times fast.”
“Cock cookie competition. Cock cook?—”
I laugh, cutting my aunt off. “I didn’t mean to actually say it. “
“So, this cookie competition,” Hardy prods, sounding interested.
“Say cock,” Delilah interrupts.
His cheeks flush. “I’m not saying that.”
Delilah gives him a curious look. “You a prude or something?”
I step up next to him, shooting her a look. “Leave the man alone.” Then I turn to him to finish my story. “So, we have a competition. Some years we see who can make the most realistic cock.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea to do with your kid?” He sounds skeptical, and I would worry that he’s questioning my parenting when I remember he’s a girl dad.
“It was his idea!” Delilah laughs.
Placing an arm on his, I continue. “What you’re forgetting is that I’m a boy mom. We’re a different breed. Cocks and balls are an everyday occurrence for us. We don’t scare easily. Remember how I drove around with a cock on my car not too long ago?”
Delilah laughs. “Ned told me about that.”
“I saw Ned that day, and he didn’t say anything to me!”
“Well, you know Ned,” Delilah says, waving it off.
“Back to the competition. So, some years, it’s all about realism. Another year we tried to see who could take their cock and disguise it into something completely different with just icing and decorations.”
“I called it hide-a-willy!” Aunt Delilah exclaims.
“Last year, we took it a step up from that and allowed alterations to the dough, so you could cut up the cock or twist it into different shapes to disguise it.
