The Afrikaner culture that I grew up in has a delicious tradition — baking lots of different types of cookies at Christmas. We bake for days on end to 1 our cookie tins, and prepare cookie baskets and boxes to 2 to friends and neighbors. As an adult, I choose not to continue many of the Christmas traditions. However, this is still one of my favorite Christmas activities.
I have a friend from a different 3 background. She also loves cooking and baking. When she heard that I was planning a baking day, she 4 me to teach her how to bake my Christmas cookies. A week before Christmas, it was usually baking time. We both envisioned(想象) the beautiful and tasty treats that we would make for our families, friends and neighbors. Our baking got off to a slow but 5 start. The techniques and skills that I'd used countless times were new to my friend. And some of them would be even 6 to an experienced baker, let alone a first-timer. On my own, I'd have done it quickly and correctly. But by midday, I could feel my 7 rising. Teaching my friend had put us well behind 8. There was, of course, an easy solution: I could 9 and just let her watch. But I had promised that I would teach her. So we decided to reduce the variety of cookies, bake more of the 10 versions and get creative with the icing. At the end of the second day, we had 20 beautiful gift boxes, each displaying a mouth-watering selection of cookies.
My friend couldn't wait to get home and share the 11 of her labors with her family. Seeing how proud she was, I was doubly 12 that I didn't act on my thought to do everything myself just because it would be 13. Not only would I have robbed her of an opportunity to 14 but I would have robbed her of that new-found 15 and the pride she felt at having achieved something new.
