We had one tin of cookies that was for my uncle. And I will never forget, when we went to give the cookies, he opened the tin, and I was stunned. Half of the cookies were gone. It turns out that my youngest munchkin, Matthew, had figured out how to open the cookie tin. It also turns out that Matthew really liked peanut butter cookies. I had caught him several times running by me with a cookie-crumb grin, but I left snack foods for the boys, so I thought he was getting into those.
Matthew was fed through a PEG-tube into his stomach until he was 1 year old so the muscles in his mouth didn't develop normally and were a lot firmer than they needed to be, and the therapists suggested I provide him with a healthy supply of things he could hold on his own, and foods that would provide him with different textures to chew. I didn’t give a second thought to seeing him with his little mischievious grin, his mouth working furiously to chew something as he ran by me. I was just glad he was eating.
So, today, my middle son, Joshua, walks up the stairs with a plate of still warm-from-the-oven cookies. What kind of cookies do you think he baked? Peanut butter cookies!
It seemed very appropriate, seeing as how tomorrow, September 1st, is the anniversary of Matthew's death. It will be exactly 10 years since I last held my little boy, but it seems okay that we remember his death, not with tears (though I am sure at some point there will be some of those) but instead, we shall remember his life with peanut butter cookies and memories of little boys sneaking cookies from Christmas tins and giggling with cookie-crumb grins.