Christmas Mice

Before Alabama recorded "Why Can't Christmas Day Last All Year Long," I might have warned them to be careful what they wished for. Starting when I was 8, my holidays began in August with auditions for The Nutcracker at the Tanglewood Mall in Roanoke, Virginia. My sister, Jordan-Elizabeth, and I would spend the rest of the summer playing the score to the Christmas ballet as we discussed what parts we would dance that December.

Two years older and remarkably focused, my sister accepted the challenge of elegant roles involving a tutu or at least a party dress. Always looking for a laugh, I crossed my fingers for a character part, and Fight Scene Mouse remains one of my greatest hits.

Once rehearsals began in September, every family member contributed. Pink tulle and green organza leaves covered the living room as Mom created tutus for the "Waltz of the Flowers." Our dad spent Saturdays driving us through the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Roanoke Civic Center, an hour each way.

By the time the holidays finally arrived, we were starting to lose steam. An expert at making the ordinary feel magical, Mom suggested we whip up a batch of Christmas Mice, inspired by my onstage persona. While this recipe didn't require a mixer, an oven, or a hint of flour, it allowed us to slow down and reminisce on the joy of the past few months as we prepared for the celebrations ahead.