From the Kitchen of Mrs. Clause
Good Morning from the North Pole!
Now, I know most of you are here for recipes or a peek into our daily lives at the North Pole, but today I have a little story to share. One that still has me giggling as I write it down. You see, every day can be full of surprises—even when you think you know your husband of… well, more Christmases than I care to admit!
It All Started with Cookies
It started just like any other morning. The snow was falling softly, the elves were chattering away as they buzzed about their workshop, and the smell of freshly baked sugar cookies filled our cozy kitchen. You know the kind—the ones with icing so perfectly sweet, even the North Star gets jealous of their sparkle. Anyway, I had just set a lovely plate of them on the table to allow the frosting to set, when I stepped outside for a moment to check on the sound of mischief. (Rudolph had been eyeing the holly a bit too closely for my comfort as of late.)
Barely a minute of being outside had passed when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of the refrigerator door creaking open. Now, when you live with Santa, you develop a keen ear for such things. And then, from the kitchen, I heard a very familiar, and very dramatic, “Hmm… interesting.”
Sherlock Claus Investigates the Disappearing Cookies
I stepped back inside, and there was Santa, standing over the empty cookie plate, glass of milk in hand, and a furrowed brow that could rival a snowstorm. The plate was completely bare like the cookies had simply vanished into thin air!
“Mrs. Claus,” he said, in his best Sherlock Holmes impression (which, let me tell you, is quite something to witness), “a rather curious thing has happened. I turned my back for one minute—just to grab some milk, mind you—and poof! All the cookies are gone!” He looked at me over his glasses, that famous twinkle in his eye suggesting that some playful trouble was brewing.
The Real Culprit Revealed: A Cookie Thief with Four Paws
Just as he was about to continue his “investigation,” something—or should I say someone—caught our eye. Out of the corner of the kitchen, our old St. Bernard, Jingles, was making his way out, slinking off as if he had committed some heinous crime (and, well… he had).
Santa narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Hold on a second…” We both turned toward Jingles, who had now settled onto his favorite rug by the fireplace, looking far too content for a dog who hadn’t just devoured a plate of cookies.
As we approached, it was hard to miss the evidence: Jingles had frosting smeared across his muzzle, and unmistakably, cookie crumbs clinging to his massive paws.
“Oh dear,” I said, holding back a laugh. “It seems our Jingles has developed a taste for holiday baking.”
Holiday Laughter in the Claus’s Household
Santa sighed with exaggerated defeat, giving Jingles a gentle pat on the head. “Well, Mrs. Claus, it looks like you’re off the hook this time. But,” he leaned in closer and whispered, “don’t think I’m not onto your cookie rationing scheme. This might be a setup after all!”
I gave him a playful swat with my apron. “Santa, you’re going to have to learn to share—especially with Jingles, it seems.”
With that, we both sat down by the fire, watching Jingles drift into a sugar-fueled nap, snoring softly as he dreamed of his cookie heist. Santa poured himself another glass of milk, and I, ever the indulgent wife, handed him one last cookie. The one I’d hidden, just in case of a snack emergency.
“Consider this your reward for solving the case, Detective Claus,” I said with a wink.
Santa smiled warmly and took a bite, his eyes twinkling with that unmistakable joy. “Mrs. Claus,” he said, “you always know just how to sweeten the deal.”
And that, my friends, is just another day in the Claus kitchen—where cookies, dogs, and a little bit of holiday jesting keep life delightfully unpredictable.
Until next time my loves,
Gertie (AKA Mrs. Claus)