Cookies For Santa Quotes

Do you need help with anything?" he asked with a wicked arched brow. "Maybe with cookies for Santa." Scowling because no one was here but us, I said, "You're a bit late for that. Santa already came." He hadn't moved, but I knew better than to think he would. Flynn was a pro at filling the bubble air space that was meant to be private and personal. "And were you a good girl?" he asked. Awkwardly folding my arms over my chest, I said, "Not sure, I haven't checked. But you needn't look. We all know you are all bad." Laughing, he said, "Yeah, well, there are other things worth unwrapping." Grinding my teeth, I asked, "What, you didn't get your Ho, Ho, Ho, last night?" Tossing back another full belly laugh, he said, "You know you're kind of funny when you want to be.

Elle slammed the reindeer cookie cutter down and viciously yanked the extra dough from around it. Her mother, brother, and sisters all stopped to stare at her. “Whoa. Put the reindeer down gently and step away from Santa,

Why did Santa divorce Mrs. Claus?” “I don’t know, why did she?” Riley asks. “He was obsessed with getting the cookie.

We half-eat cookies and drink the milk, we leave notes, all so kids will believe in something that isn’t true. Kids try their best to scientifically determine whether Santa's real and our whole culture feeds them false evidence. We dupe them.

I’m afraid the sleigh is wrecked,” said Santa, “and we do not have a spare!” “We must cancel Christmas,” he said; but his wife replied, “We must not dare!

she could see that he was less happy and more surprised, like a parent discovering that Santa Claus was actually real. He’d answered the letters and eaten the cookies and left the presents under the tree, but he’d never expected a fat man to come sliding down the chimney.

Some parents in our neighborhood do everything they can to keep their children away from violent images. And then, when something terrible happens, like murder or rape or genocide - well, then a conversation has to be had with these young innocents to explain that, yes, goodness is sometimes a fiction, like Santa Claus, and that humanity is, underneath all the cookie baking and song singing, a shameful and secret nastiness. Me, I'm going to raise my son differently. What he will be made to know is that there is violence in everything - even in goodness, if you're passionate about it.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the base Only sentries were stirring--they guarded the place. At the foot of each bunk sat a helmet and boot For the Santa of Soldiers to fill up with loot. The soldiers were sleeping and snoring away As they dreamed of “back home” on good Christmas Day. One snoozed with his rifle--he seemed so content. I slept with the letters my family had sent. When outside the tent there arose such a clatter. I sprang from my rack to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Poked out my head, and yelled, “What was that crash?” When what to my thrill and relief should appear, But one of our Blackhawks to give the all clear. More rattles and rumbles! I heard a deep whine! Then up drove eight Humvees, a jeep close behind… Each vehicle painted a bright Christmas green. With more lights and gold tinsel than I’d ever seen. The convoy commander leaped down and he paused. I knew then and there it was Sergeant McClaus! More rapid than rockets, his drivers they came When he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Cohen! Mendoza! Woslowski! McCord! Now, Li! Watts! Donetti! And Specialist Ford!” “Go fill up my sea bags with gifts large and small! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, all!” In the blink of an eye, to their trucks the troops darted. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Through the tent flap the sergeant came in with a bound. He was dressed all in camo and looked quite a sight With a Santa had added for this special night. His eyes--sharp as lasers! He stood six feet six. His nose was quite crooked, his jaw hard as bricks! A stub of cigar he held clamped in his teeth. And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. A young driver walked in with a seabag in tow. McClaus took the bag, told the driver to go. Then the sarge went to work. And his mission today? Bring Christmas from home to the troops far away! Tasty gifts from old friends in the helmets he laid. There were candies, and cookies, and cakes, all homemade. Many parents sent phone cards so soldiers could hear Treasured voices and laughter of those they held dear. Loving husbands and wives had mailed photos galore Of weddings and birthdays and first steps and more. And for each soldier’s boot, like a warm, happy hug, There was art from the children at home sweet and snug. As he finished the job--did I see a twinkle? Was that a small smile or instead just a wrinkle? To the top of his brow he raised up his hand And gave a salute that made me feel grand. I gasped in surprise when, his face all aglow, He gave a huge grin and a big HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! from the barracks and then from the base. HO! HO! HO! as the convoy sped up into space. As the camp radar lost him, I heard this faint call: “HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BRAVE SOLDIERS! MAY PEACE COME TO ALL!

Compounding the problem of insufficient information is the problem of bad information. Children believe in things like Santa Claus and the tooth fairy not because they are particularly credulous but for the same reasons the rest of us believe our beliefs. Their information about these phenomena comes from trusted sources (typically, their parents) and is often supported by physical evidence (cookie crumbs by the chimney, quarters under the pillow). It isn’t the kids’ fault that the evidence is fabricated and that their sources mislead them. Nor is it their fault that their primary community, outside of their family, generally consists of other children, who tend to be equally ill-informed.

You have heard about the reindeer that pull old Santa's sled. But mostly I hate Rudolph and wish that he were dead. With his nose of red which we all know just can't be true. I wish someone would just kill him, that someone could be you. He is Santa's favorite and to the front he can be found. Instead of his red nose, "I" think it should be brown. He believes that Santa likes him and thinks that he's a winner. But Santa Claus has other plans he wants Rudolph for his dinner. Old Saint Nick is greedy this I know without a doubt. What else do you think happens to all the great toys we go without? He takes them and he breaks them be cause he doesn't care a bit. To me it doesn't matter, Why, he can keep his "Schict". Yes' it's true that I hate Santa too, dressed in his suit of silk. That's why this year with the homemade cookies, I'm going to leave some poison milk.

I like distributed systems. If just one person truly believes in the existence of something imaginary, he's an idiot. But when thousands of people even slightly believe, you get beautifully painted eggs hidden under bushes and quarters exchanged for loose teeth under your pillow.  You get Elvis presiding at weddings and cookie crumbs on the plate left for Santa each Christmas morning.

On the tenth day of Christmas your true friends give to you: Ten dancing Santas Nine Christmas candles Eight cookie cutters Seven golden apples Six holiday cups Five angel gift cards Four gift boxes Three rolls of gift wrap Two bags of bows and A poinsettia for all of you.

On the eleventh day of Christmas your true friends give to you … Eleven hungry mice Ten dancing Santas Nine candles Eight cookie cutters Seven golden apples Six holiday cups Five angel gift cards Four gift boxes Three rolls of gift wrap Two bags of bows and, One poinsettia for all of you.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas Your true friends give to you … Twelve Brass Bells Eleven Christmas Mice Ten Dancing Santas Nine Candles Eight Cookie Cutters Seven Golden Apples Six Holiday Cups Five Angel Note Cards Four Gift Boxes Three Rolls of Gift Wrap Two Bags of Bows And One Poinsettia For All Of You.

May Santa bring you lots of chocolate and cookies, and may the Grinch steal all the calories from them.

since the accident. I don’t know what her problem was. After all, I was a “hero.” At least the newspaper said so. “Hey, Alex,” she said, twirling her ponytail with her pencil. “Oh, hi,” I stammered, looking down at my burger. “You guys sounded really great in the talent show. I didn’t know you could sing like that.” “Uhh, thanks. It must be all the practice I get with my karaoke machine.” Oh God, did I just tell her I sing karaoke? Definitely not playing it cool, I thought to myself. TJ butted in, “Yeah, Small Fry was ok, but I really carried the show with my awesome guitar solo.” He smiled proudly. “Shut up, TJ,” I said, tossing a fry at him, which hit him between the eyes. “Hey, watch it, Baker. Just because you’re a ‘hero’ doesn’t mean I won’t pummel you.” “Yeah, right,” I said, smiling. Emily laughed. “Maybe we could come over during Christmas break and check out your karaoke machine. Right, Danielle?” Danielle rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” I gulped. “Uhhh…yeah…that sounds great.” “Ok, give me your hand,” she said. “My hand,” I asked, surprised. “Yep,” she said, grabbing my wrist and opening my palm. “Here’s my number,” she said, writing the numbers 585-2281 in gold glitter pen on my palm.” I will never wash my hand again, I thought to myself. “Text me over break, ok?” she said, smiling brightly. “Yeah, sure,” I nodded, as she walked away giggling with Danielle. “Merry Christmas to me!” I whispered to TJ and Simon. “Yeah, there’s just one problem, Dufus,” TJ said. “Oh yeah, what’s that, TJ? That she didn’t give you her number?” I asked. “No, Dork. How are you going to text her if you don’t have a cell phone?” He smiled. “Oh, right,” I said, slumping down in my seat. “That could be a problem.” “You could just call her on your home phone,” Simon suggested, wiping his nose with a napkin. “Yeah, sure,” TJ chuckled. “Hi Emily, this is Alex Baker calling from the year 1984.” He held his pencil to his ear like a phone.  “Would you like to come over to play Atari? Then maybe we can solve my Rubik’s Cube while we break dance ….and listen to New Kids on the Block.” He was cracking himself up and turning bright red. “Maybe I’ll type you a love letter on my typewriter. It’s so much cooler than texting.” “Shut up, TJ,” I said, smiling. “I’m starting to remember why I didn’t like you much at the beginning of the year.” “Lighten up, Baker. I’m just bustin’ your chops. Christmas is coming. Maybe Santa will feel sorry for your dorky butt and bring you a cell phone.” Chapter 2 ePhone Denied When I got home from school that day, it was the perfect time to launch my cell phone campaign. Mom was in full Christmas mode. The house smelled like gingerbread. She had put up the tree and there were boxes of ornaments and decorations on the floor. I stepped over a wreath and walked into the kitchen. She was baking sugar cookies and dancing around the kitchen to Jingle Bell Rock with my little brother Dylan. My mom twirled Dylan around and smiled. She was wearing the Grinch apron that we had given her last Christmas. Dylan was wearing a Santa hat, a fake beard, and of course- his Batman cape. Batman Claus. “Hey Honey. How was school?” she asked, giving Dylan one more spin. “It was pretty good. We won second place in the talent show.” I held up the candy cane shaped award that Ms. Riley had given us. “Great job! You and TJ deserved it. You practiced hard and it payed off.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, grabbing a snicker-doodle off the counter. “And now it’s Christmas break! I bet your excited.” She took a tray of cookies out of the oven and placed

Santa is like a queen bee. All the elves are his drones, who exist to feed him royal jelly, which I guess would be milk and cookies. If an elf escapes and eats royal cookies, it will turn into another Santa. That’s what all those mall Santas are. They’re trying to start their own festive colonies.

Santa, himself, was sitting behind his desk when I walked in. "Hello," he greeted me. He looked exactly as one would expect. Long white beard and a thick head of white hair. His cheeks were rosy and he truly did look jolly when he smiled at me. "You're the new Karma." "Yes," I smiled back all the while waiting for the scolding. "Would you care for a cookie?" He motioned to the heaped plate on the corner of his desk. "No thanks." I didn't want to get thrown out mid-bite. He was Santa. He knew everything. Any second, he'd tell me to get the hell out of his office, throwing coal at me as I ran. He stood up from his chair and walked around to the fireplace that blazed in the corner, lending the space a warm light. "Would you like to sit?" He motioned to the two well-stuffed chairs in front of it. "I don't want to take up too much of your time. I can see you're busy." I made a step backward toward the door. "I got time for you." Guess I was going to have to see this thing out until the coal started flying. I watched as he sat. He was still smiling. I took the seat across from him. Maybe he didn't know. "I know why you're nervous." Well, there went that. "Karma, sometimes there are gray areas in life. Things that don't fit neatly into wrong vs right.

Gingerbread

THE “THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS” SPEECH Son/Daughter, Please sit down over here by me. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, and I think you’re old enough now. I know you believe with all your heart that there is a person called Santa Claus who brings you presents every year if you are good. But the truth is that there is no Santa Claus. “Santa Claus” is really all the parents in the world, who love their children very much and buy them presents to show how much they love them. Your presents are not made by elves in a toy shop at the North Pole. There is no such thing as an elf; and the North Pole is actually one of the loneliest and most desolate places on Earth. The truth is that mom and dad buy all your presents at the mall, and we’re the ones who eat Santa’s cookies and drink Santa’s milk. Reindeer can’t fly, either. But don’t cry. This doesn’t mean that the spirit of Santa Claus isn’t real. “Santa Claus” is inside all of us, whenever we give presents to those that we love or those who are less fortunate. When you grow up, you can be Santa, too. Or the Easter Bunny. Or the Tooth Fairy.

You ate the cookies and drank all the milk?” Cash asked, looking at the base of the tree. “No. I didn’t. Why would I? I don’t like banana chip, they’re your favorite.” “I didn’t eat them, Harper.” “Sure you didn’t.” “Prove it then.” “How?

MOM: Fuck santa. If I had a million little elves helping me and random people feeding me cookies, I’d be jolly all the time too.

Part 3: She hadn’t “stayed.” And neither had Finn. They both flanked Sean, munching on the cookies. A woman sat at the check-in desk with a laptop, her fingers a blur, the tip of her Santa hat quivering as she typed away. She looked up and smiled as she took in the group. That is until her gaze landed on Sean and she froze. He’d already done the same because holy shit— “Greetings,” she said, recovering first and so quickly that no one else seemed to notice as she stood and smiled warmly everyone but Sean. “Welcome to the Hartford B&B. My name’s Charlotte Hartford and I’m the innkeeper here. How can I help you?” Good question. And Sean had the answer on the tip of his tongue, which was currently stuck to the roof of his mouth because he hadn’t been prepared for this sweet and sassy redheaded blast from his past.

weeks. It was the same stuff every year. Santa mugs filled with candy canes. Canisters of homemade hot chocolate mix. Starbucks cards she’d never use—not because she didn’t like coffee but because she rarely made the seven-mile drive to the nearest Starbucks. Enough cookies for a bake sale wrapped in various colors of cellophane and tied with ribbons. Garish ornaments that would never hang on her tasteful Victorian tree in the bay window—which she hadn’t even put up this year. The odd handmade scarf in a color outside a palette she would ever don. Spruce Valley was small, with distinct but overlapping social circles. Re-gifting was next to impossible, even if she waited a year, though she might be able to give away the Starbucks cards if she took them out of the envelopes. She might use the hot chocolate mix, though she never found it a bother to make hot cocoa on the stove. At least the mix would keep. She had no appetite for the cookies.

Who’s distributing these anyway?” I inquire with a hint of suspicion. Kaye shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t know. There was a bunch of them in the lounge with a sign that said ‘take me’.” “So we’re eating cookies from an unknown source?” I tear off Santa’s head, narrowing my eyes at his jolly little smile. “How do we know these aren’t poisoned?” “This is college, Chris. They’re just cookies. Someone’s grandma probably sent them.” “Oh, so we’re eating someone’s stale re-gifted cookies then. These will be delicious,” I deadpan. “You’re so dramatic.

I've lived my whole life across the street from the Molinas, but this is the first time I set foot in Sugar. The theme inside is very gaudy. Twinkling lights shaped like icicles hanging from the ceiling. Red walls, just like the facade, the shade of Santa Claus's clothes. Glass shelves and counters polished until they sparkle, not one sign of fingerprints or kids' fogged breaths. There's a translucent wall in the back with display slots. Most are empty by now, but an assortment of bolos de rolo, Seu Romário's famous cakes, takes the main spot at the center. The special lighting shows off the traditionally super thin spiral layers--- twenty layers in this roll cake, he claims--- filled with guava and sprinkled with sugar granules that glisten like a dusting of crystals. The shelves to the right and left are packed with jujubas, bright candies, condensed milk puddings, cookies, broas, and sweet buns, filling the air with a strong, sweet perfume, the type you can actually taste. It's like being inside a candy factory.

Bruce refused a cookie? Well now, Christmas miracles do happen.” Santa chuckled.

PEPPER COOKIES WITH ICING SUGAR The baking of pepper cookies in close collaboration with a child is a permanent feature in any household with a kid in the lead-up to Christmas. 150 grams of sugar, 250 grams of syrup, ½ teaspoon of pepper, 2 teaspoons of ginger, 2 teaspoons of cinnamon, ½ teaspoon of cloves, 125 grams of butter, 1 egg, 2 teaspoons of baking soda, 400 grams of flour. Mix the sugar, syrup and butter and bring to simmering point. Mix in the baking soda with all the spices, pepper, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. Then add the egg and flour. Keep 1–2 cups of flour to knead the dough. Knead the dough on the table with the child. Roll out the dough and let the child cut out the shapes him/herself (Santa Clauses, Christmas trees, bells, angels and reindeer) and decorate the cookies with the icing. Icing: 125 grams of icing sugar and 1–1½ egg whites mixed well together. Colour according to taste.

Christmas by Maisie Aletha Smikle Smiles gifts and laughter fill the air Families so dear Gather and share Love and happy cheer Mary gave birth to Christ Jesus Gloriously famed is He People are happy on His birthday They meet to celebrate this day On Christ's birthday There were gifts of myrrh Frankincense and gold Celebrating His birth that was foretold Christmas day is Christ’s birthday Once a year Christ is cheered For coming into the world Woes and foes Are forgotten And joy and peace Are release Lights blink Twinkle twinkle Beckoning good wishes To come in Snow falling on roof tops Cookies cooling on stove tops Smoke whistling from the chimneys Calling out to Santa on his sleigh Don't come down tonight It is frosty as frost bite If you come down the chimney You will be toasty as a toast So on and on Santa goes Round and round the globe Delivering good wishes and happy cheers And thanking God for Christ’s birth

That’s like saying Santa doesn’t like wine and cheese.” She gave me a pointed look. “He doesn’t. He likes milk and cookies. You’re the one who tried to convince me he likes wine and cheese.

To say it was chaos in the police station would be an understatement. It would have been calmer if Santa had shown up and started giving out winning lottery tickets. - Milk, Cookies, and Murder: Whispering Lake book 2

I didn’t go to seminary. I mean, the liberal arts school I attended academically expelled me! Thankfully, we don’t need any sort of education to understand how simple loving others and loving God is. So, go. Grab your blow-up Santa and put it in your front yard in July if it will help someone else feel more loved. Go. Take some cookies to your neighbor for no reason other than knowing that they, like most of us, probably need a reason to smile today. Pay for the person’s groceries or Starbucks order behind you. Compliment someone’s shoes while taking a walk. What can you do today that will make someone feel loved? It’s not going to be as complicated as you think. I promise.

The Evergreen Christmas Party" Once upon a time, in a snowy forest, there was a cozy log cabin. Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen lived there, and they loved Christmas. Every year, they had a big Christmas party for all the children in the village. One day, the first snowflakes of winter began to fall. The children were so excited! They put on their warm hats, scarves, and mittens and grabbed their sleds. They raced down a snowy hill, laughing and having fun. Inside the cabin, Mrs. Evergreen was baking cookies and making hot cocoa. The smell was delicious! She decorated a big Christmas tree with shiny lights and colorful ornaments. Mr. Evergreen was busy getting a special chair ready for a surprise guest. As the sun went down, the children came to the cabin. They were greeted by the warm glow of the lights and the yummy smell of cookies. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Evergreen opened it, and there stood Santa Claus! The children were amazed. Santa came inside and listened to the children’s Christmas wishes. He gave them gifts and told them stories about the North Pole. Everyone sang Christmas songs and danced. It was the best party ever! When it was time to go, Santa waved goodbye and promised to come back next year. The children watched as Santa’s sleigh flew into the night sky, feeling happy and full of Christmas magic. From that day on, the Evergreen Christmas party was the best part of the year. Everyone in the village looked forward to it, knowing it would be filled with love, joy, and a little bit of magic.

Baby, can you bite a few of these cookies? I need to put the plate and milk by her letter for Santa. It has to look like he ate these.