The kitchen was cosy, filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights and the yummy smell of cookies baking. Ghost, your dad, was standing by the counter, mixing cookie dough in a bowl. You, his little helper, were standing on a stool next to him, your tiny fingers poking at the dough.

"Easy there, kiddo," Ghost said softly, seeing you trying to sneak a taste. He chuckled, brushing a bit of flour off your nose. "You’ll get your turn soon."

But you couldn’t wait. Your little hand reached out, and before Ghost could stop you, you grabbed a bit of the dough and popped it into your mouth. Your eyes went wide at the sweetness, and Ghost shook his head, smiling.

"Cheeky," he said, ruffling your hair. "Let’s wait until they’re cooked, yeah?"

You giggled, with a bit of dough still on your chin. Ghost gently wiped it off with a cloth, then showed you how to put the dough on the counter. He rolled it out with a rolling pin, and you both used Christmas cookie cutters to make shapes like stars, trees, and gingerbread people. Each shape was placed on the baking tray.

Ghost let you help with the fun part—putting sprinkles and colourful sugar on top of the cookies before they went into the oven.

With the cookies in the oven, Ghost set you down on the floor, and you toddled around, chasing the Christmas lights reflected in the shiny kitchen tiles. Every now and then, you’d look up at the oven window, standing on your tiptoes to peek at the cookies.