lemon cookies

This is a story I posted way back in 2014, so probably many of my readers haven’t seen it. It’s part of a collection of stories called Growing Up Pilgrim that I hope to publish one day. One of the last times my father used a switch on my brother’s and my posteriors resulted from what we later called the lemon cookie catastrophe. My father had an addiction to lemon frosted cookies, and every other week my mother would bring home a package of the sweet treats with the groceries. The catastrophe occurred because both Jay and I also loved those cookies and tended to sneak them when no one was looking. The cookies were stored in a metal bread box on the counter by the back door, which made its position perfect for a strike and run. As a result, the number of lemon cookies in the bag would diminish rapidly in just a few days, much to my father’s displeasure. “Who ate the lemon cookies?” Dad would ask in exasperation each time. “Noelle did,” Jay would answer. “Jay did,” I would reply. Finally, Dad’s patience wore out. Tired of never knowing who was to be punished for eating his cookies, he found a solution. “The next time I find that anyone has been eating my cookies, you will both be switched.” Sure enough, the following week he went to grab a cookie after dinner and found the bag had only one. “That’s it,” he roared and asked Jay and me who ate his cookies. “I didn’t, I swear,” I vowed. “I didn’t eat your cookies this time,” answered Jay tearfully, knowing what was coming. Nevertheless, Dad cut a green switch from the back yard forsythia, returned to the kitchen and gave both Jay and me a thorough licking, energized by the fact that he was tired of our lying. Mom came in from the drying area with a pile of clothes in her arms and found me sitting on the back steps, crying. I followed her into the kitchen, wailing about being punished for something I didn’t do. “What’s going on here, John?” Mom asked. “I’m tired of those kids lying about eating the lemon cookies,” he answered, “so this time they both got switched.” “Oh dear,” Mom sighed. “I forgot to tell you that the bridge club was here this afternoon and I served them the lemon cookies.” I remember wailing even louder about the unfairness of it all and not surprisingly, got ordered to my room. I left, but not before I heard Dad say, “Well, shit.” 0 0