When I was a kid, nothing gave me the creeps quite like the infamous clown cookie jar my Grandma Hicks painted. Who in their right mind would ever think a child would want a cookie from the evil clown?
Mom would fill it with homemade cookies, and while they were delicious, I still felt totally gipped that the “rich kids” got store-bought ones. (Because as a kid, store-bought meant “fancy”, right?)
Fast forward to today-now all I want are those homemade cookies. Even from the creepy Stephen King clown.
Funny how life works. The terrifying clown doesn’t creep me out like it used to…but our kids? Well, that’s another story.
When my husband Gord and I were away for a few days, our children sent us a photo of the clown cookie jar surrounded by a ring of salt.
So, apparently, they’re still freaked out just like I was. I guess THAT tradition is alive and well!
Perhaps, when I’m cremated, the clown cookie jar will get the last laugh as my urn. A perfect spot to rest eternally—surrounded by homemade cookies and some good old creepy family memories!
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