Jack and the Cookie Jar

Jack was getting hungry. Not horribly hungry--he'd had a good breakfast. He was playing in his room by himself, and he decided he needed a snack. Dad was in the garage, but he was busy.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Jack looked around for something good to eat. He looked in the cupboard. He looked in the drawer. No cookies in the cookie jar, no crackers on the shelf. What was he going to do?

“I think I’ll make something,” he said. "I can do it myself." Just thinking about it made him grin. “What shall I make?” he wondered out loud.

“Cookies!” came a little voice from behind him.

“What! “ exclaimed Jack, and he whirled around to see who was talking. There was nothing behind him except the big, red, apple-shaped cookie jar with its smiling face.

“Cookies, I said,” shouted the Cookie Jar. “You’re not the only one who’s empty. I haven’t had a thing in me for a week!”

“But I don’t know how to make cookies,” said Jack.

“Well," said the Cookie Jar, “I probably know everything there is to know about cookies! I could help you.”

Jack clapped for joy!

“FIRST THING: Wash your hands. That’s what cooks always do.”

Jack pushed the stool close to the sink and washed his hands.

“USE SOAP.”

He squirted a bit into his palm and squeezed it, making lots of suds.

“That’s enough! “

Jack stuck out his chin and glared at her.

In a nicer voice, the Cookie Jar said, “Now, get out the ingredients.”

“The what?” asked Jack.

“The stuff you’re going to use to make cookies.”

“Oh.” Jack looked up and down and around. “I don’t see any.”

“You’ll need flour. It’s on the shelf in that white sack.”

Jack could only reach it if he climbed onto the counter, so up he went.

“Careful!” warned the Cookie Jar. “Start with a cup of flour,” she said.

Jack took his mom’s coffee cup down from the peg. He picked up the sack of flour, opened it and started to pour. Flour went everywhere. Untroubled, he poured more until the cup was full. Then he tidied the counter, sweeping the extra flour onto the floor, using the side of his hand like the blade of a snow plow.

Looking quite pleased with himself, he asked, “What’s next?”

Cookie Jar was a little ruffled. Things weren’t going quite right, and she didn’t know what to do.

“Sugar,” she said. “I think. Yes, yes, of course. Sugar.”

“How much?” asked Jack.

“A-another cup,” she said, trying to sound confident.

Jack plucked his dad’s cup from its peg and set it alongside. Then he reached for the sugar bowl, and dumped the sugar into the cup. The lid and the spoon went flying!

Jack was alarmed. He hopped down from his stool to get them.

“Oh, we’re all right!” said the spoon. “Wasn’t that fun?” she asked the lid.

“Speak for yourself,” said the lid. “I was holding onto myself for dear life!”

No harm had come to them. Jack put them on the table and returned to his stool.

“Now what?” he asked the Cookie Jar.

“Add a pinch of salt,” she said, sounding sure of herself again.

Jack puzzled about this a moment. He poured some salt onto the counter and pinched a little, and then he put it in one of the cups. “Like that?” he asked.

“Just like that,” the Cookie Jar nodded approvingly. “Now mix them all together!”

Carefully, he poured the flour from his mom’s cup into his dad’s, making a mountain shape at the top. “Good!” he said, pleased.

“You have to stir to mix them together,” said Cookie Jar.

Jack looked doubtful, but he picked up the sugar spoon. “It will mess up my mountain, “ he complained.

“Just do it,” said Cookie Jar.

Jack did his best.

“There. That’s it. Now you put them in the pan and cook them and eat them,” said the Cookie Jar.

Jack got a pan from beneath the oven, but then he stopped. “Something isn’t right.”

“She doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know what to do! Hi-ho the Cookie Jar, she doesn’t know what to do!” the Sugar Spoon sang.

Jack began to cry.

Just then Dad came through the back door, heading for the sink to wash his greasy hands.

“What’s this?” asked Dad. “You are making a mess in the kitchen!”

“I was trying to make cookies, but I guess we didn’t know how,” Jack sobbed.

“Come here,” said Dad. “We’ll see what we can do. Cookies sound good to me too.”

Jack’s dad gave him a good hug, and then got out the mixer and a recipe book.

“I’ll read the recipe and help you get out the ingredients…”

“The stuff I need to make cookies,” Jack beamed.

“Yes, that’s right. What kind shall we make? I like oatmeal raisin cookies best myself," Dad said.

"With lots of raisins!" said Jack.

Together they got out all the things they needed, starting with a big mixing bowl.

"I’ll read what to do, and you can do it. First, let's measure out two cups of flour,” said Dad, and he showed Jack how. Then he helped him cream the butter and sugar until it was light and fluffy.

"How about I crack the first egg, and you can do the next ones? Would that be okay?" Jack nodded. "Watch closely. We'll crack them one at a time into an empty bowl."

Dad cracked his egg sharply against the bowl's rim. Then he gently pulled apart the two halves of the shell, and the egg slid out. "Now you do it."

Jack's first two tries were soft little taps, and the shell barely cracked at all. The third time, he brought the egg down harder, and the yolk plopped out onto the counter. Jack looked up at Dad with his eyes wide. "I didn't mean to..." he began.

"No harm done," said Dad. "We can rescue that egg," and he scooped it up with a big spoon and dumped it into the bowl. "Here, let me hold your hands so you can get the feel of it."

Dad's hands on top of Jack's guided the egg firmly to the bowl's edge. "Now, pull it apart, just like this." It worked perfectly.

"We got some shell in with the eggs," Jack said.

"Use the spoon to fish it out."

Step by step, Jack and his dad worked together to make the dough. Jack prepared the cookie sheets just the way Dad told him, and dropped spoonfuls of the dough in four rows.

Dad put the pans into the hot oven and set the timer. "This is when we clean up," he said. While the cookies baked, Jack helped put away the ingredients and they washed the measuring cups and spoons in the sink. When they were all done, Dad poured them each a glass of milk, and they waited impatiently for the cookies to cool.

Finally Jack said, "I don't think I can wait another minute. I want a cookie now!"

Dad said, "Me too!" and he lifted two cookies carefully onto a plate. "Well, how are they?" he asked.

"They're yum!" said Jack.

Together they made three dozen delicious cookies. What they didn’t eat that day Jack put into the Cookie Jar. "Thank you," she whispered, and her smile was bigger than ever.