Mini Turkey Cookies for Thanksgiving

I'm a briber. I bribe my children. This is socially awkward to admit because when I was growing up, "I bribe my children" meant pretty much the same thing as "I am the worst parent in the history of ever because my small and illogical children aren't altruistically making the right choice on a daily basis and they will never truly learn to love or be loved all because I have made this horrible, horrible life choice for them at such an early age. And I smell bad."

Apparently, children were supposed to have already picked up the concept of sacrificing the now for a later gain by the time they reach the age of two. I was determined to not be the worst parent in the history of ever. I wasn't going to bribe my children. Ever. And for a while, I was really good at it. I was fair and logical and patient and loving and I have to say, my child really was practically perfect. And then he was born. And around his second hour of life, I scrapped that whole non-bribery pact I had made with myself.

Most of my parental concessions have been made so that I can gain one of two things -- 1) SLEEP or 2) The possibility of regaining just a tiny, tiny ounce of self-respect in public. Enter the "If you stop screaming and throwing every item back out of the cart the second I put in, I will buy you every single item in this store" bribe. Which, for the record, has never actually worked out for me. Do you want to know which one has though? The Night-Time Cooke Bribe. It's so successful, I named it. My daughter thinks that "bedtime" is code for "play with all her toys in the dark, ask for 3 drinks, go to the bathroom twice and then cry for a little bit while standing just out of sight behind the corner." She's really quite good at it. So I bribe her. I put two mini cookies on top of her dresser. And if she gets out of bed... I eat one. (It's awful. Don't even attempt to imagine her horror and my guilt at that horror.) In the morning, she gets to eat whatever is left. My neighbor gave me the idea. She used pennies, but money is meaningless to my sugar-loving sweetie.

So now I make extra minis every time I make an order. Usually they are just little rounds or stars... but when I was making the big turkeys, I knew these little gems had to happen. And I'm so glad they did. I want to make hundreds of them and pour them into a glass jar for Thanksgiving. Or toss them in a peanut and Reeses Pieces mix. Or... you know... just eat them.

These two-piece-double-decker-cookies-of-love were made with a flower cutter and a number 8 cutter. Flood the number 8 cookie with brown icing of some kind and let it dry for a couple of hours. Then add some eyeballs, a beak, and the wattle. (Seriously -- who came up with that word?!)

While the body cookie is drying, make the feathers. You don't have to be too careful because most of the center part will be covered up. AND these are minis. And with minis...quantity counts nearly as much as quality. Or so I've been told. By my 5 year old. And he's pretty much a cookie expert.

When both cookies are dry, add a small splotch of icing to the middle of the flowery-feathery cookie. Drop the other cookie on top and call it a day.

I want to make a small army of these for Thanksgiving now. You could totally use them as "confetti" decorations along the table runner. Or make them into standing cookies and play Chess with them while everyone is too full to actually move. Or serve them as a garnish in the whip cream on top of a piece of pumpkin pie. Or is that too much?

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