Leave the cookie jar out? A parable on love vs. trust

Leave the cookie jar out? A parable on love vs. trust


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SALT LAKE CITY — A girl I know once had trouble with her boyfriend, Dude.

The problem was solved eventually — though not to my liking. I would have preferred that Dude had packed up his tattoos and moved to Reykjavik. But this isn't about me.

Dude patched things up with said girl and everything was well … for a month. Then the problem happened all over again.

"Said girl" (my daughter) was in tears and kept asking her mother if Uncle Sal back East was still taking "family" requests — normal teen stuff. I knew it was time for the cookie jar talk.

As you may know, I love the talks I have with my kids. I practice them to a mirror. I started talking about morality when they were just babies. I told them when I changed their diaper that they shouldn't do drugs, or while bathing the little poopers, I lectured them on the pros and cons of gun control.

The cookie jar talk is a favorite of mine. Its shortened version (I have never told a shortened version of anything, so this will be a first) goes like this:

Parable of the Snazzy Cookies

Once upon a time there was a wonderful dad who made delicious cookies just for the heck of it. Everyone loved the cookies (see included recipe). One day, this marvelous dad needed two dozen cookies for some unspecified thing of consequence — like a PTA meeting or to hoard for fast Sunday.

"No cookies today," he told his children. "Please stay out of the cookie jar because these cookies are earmarked for my triple bypass party, or something equally earth-shattering that is not your snack time. Please leave the cookie jar alone."

Recipe: White Chocolate Cranberry and Oatmeal Cookies

Here's how to make White Chocolate Cranberry and Oatmeal Cookies that Prodigal Dad's kids sneak at some risk.

Ingredients

1 cup butter, softened
¾ cup white sugar
¾ cup packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon cinnamon
¾ teaspoon salt
2¾ cups rolled oats
1 cup dried cranberries or Craisins
½ cup white chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat oven to 375, and turn on some Manhattan Transfer.

Mix the butter and the white and brown sugar until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla and beat for your life. Then set aside while you combine the flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt into another bowl. Gradually beat into butter mixture. Stir in oats and cranberries/Craisins and last, the white chocolate chips.

Drop onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 9 to 11 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden yummy brown. Let them sit for a minute or two, and then move to a wire rack or marble slab. Makes four dozen — if your kids do not pick at the dough.

Yeah, right. The cookies were gone the moment the kind and knowing father opened his laptop to get some work done.

"Please forgive us! Please forgive us!" the mini ones pleaded from the banister where they had been secured with two rolls of duct tape. Their pleas sounded somewhat sincere, so father dearest let them off the hook. Literally.

The next day, the children noticed that the cookie jar had been placed on the top shelf, just out of the reach of anyone who didn't shave.

"If you really forgave us," they said to the father that night, "you would leave the cookie jar out."

The father said, "I did forgive you, and I love you, and the cookie jar stays on the top shelf next to the bullets until you have earned my trust." The End.

Loose interpretation

Now, before I go on, you should know that I would never hoard cookies for fast Sunday. I would do the respectful thing and only take as many as I could fit in my suit-coat pocket.

My daughter didn't understand the point of the talk/parable/story, but that night she settled down, forgave Dude and made him cookies.

Forgiving someone is a value we understand and honor in our family. I have been on the receiving end of that club several times and, try as I might, I may be on that end in the future a few more times than I would wish.

As far as placed confidence goes, there are those who still do not trust me. I have to work for that by consistently showing positive behavior and dedication. I had to earn the title "Prodigal Dad" because I was the one who wasted time and relationships.

I hope my daughter starts to look at her own experience with trust and relates it to what she is experiencing with Dude. I hope she understands that love and trust are two different things. One could love Dude, and not trust him as far as one could throw a cookie jar.

My job, as a good husband and a father, is to fortify my daughter from the inside out. I will teach my entire family appropriate love for others and a healthy respect for themselves. They will learn to live by the heart while using their smarts.

And to bake lots of delicious cookies.


*

About the Author: Davison Cheney --------------------------------

*Davison Cheney writes "The Prodigal Dad" series weekly on ksl.com. See his other writings at davisoncheneymegadad.blogspot.com and Twitter @DavisonCheney.**

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