The Naturals | O.S

Interruptions

KATHLEEN

"I think that's enough icing, Sloane," I say, chuckling lightly at the large piping bag the blonde has prepared. She sends a glare in my direction, so strong I wonder whether or not it's playful.

"There can never be too much icing," she states strongly, chin held high in defiance.

"If you say so," I laugh, fanning myself with the rubber oven mitt in hand. Despite the weather outside being nearly negative four degrees Fahrenheit, the kitchen has become quite hot, given the gingerbread house in the oven.

There's three minutes left on the timer, and I keep telling myself that I can wait. Just three minutes. Three more minutes. But the heat is too much.

With a frustrated sigh I cross the tiled floor to the window, hacking it open. Light crackling can be heard outside as icicles fall to the snow piled beneath the sill, and the sudden onslaught of cold air has me closing my eyes in relief.

"Whatever buttercream we have left over can be eaten," Sloane comments idly, staring entranced at the icing on hand. She had insisted we make our own buttercream for the gingerbread house, as the stuff that comes in the box is "too sugary." But I believe she really just wanted to make sure there was more than just a tablespoon unused.

The timer going off cuts through the air and Sloane jumps for joy, snatching the oven mitt from my hand as she pulls open the oven door. A wave of heat washes over me and I groan, turning to face the window once more.

Dean has been out of the house with Judd all day, helping the army eagle with errands. And whilst Sloane and I are in here baking, the others are upstairs watching a movie. The Grinch, to be more specific. It's nowhere near Christmas yet, seeing as to how it's only the third of December. But apparently the holiday spirit takes hold of the Naturals household mid November.

The clatter of a pan on stone signals me to turn around, just as Sloane picks up a cleaver.

"Sloane!" I shout with a sharp laugh. "What are you doing?"

"Cutting the gingerbread," she says matter of factly, smiling wickedly at the glinting weapon in her hand.

"I think we can do that with a smaller knife," I murmur soothingly as I lower her raised hand. Slowly taking the knife out of her palm I return it to the drawer, making a mental note to tell Judd he needs to buy a child lock. Instead, I grab a regular bread knife, hesitantly handing it to the all too eager statistician.

She gets right to cutting at the soon to be house and I gather that it's much safer to take a few steps back while she works.

Footsteps in the stairwell warn us of Lias presence long before she makes it past the threshold, and as she sets foot in the kitchen to see Sloane with a knife her eyes widen.

"You're letting Sloane wield a knife? Katy, you're going to kill us all."

"She isn't letting me," Sloane defends. Herself or me, I'm not quite sure. "She has decided to not interfere with the seventeen year old who wants to cut ginger bread. I, however, wish she'd held her ground with the cleaver," she adds in a mumble.

"A cleaver?" Lia repeats, astounded. Facing me she says, "we need to put a lock on that drawer."

"Just what I was thinking," I agree, sending Sloane a soft smile as she continues her work.

"The boys have begun arguing which Home Alone is better," Lia sighs, sauntering over to the island counter.

"It's very obviously the first one," I say. "Original is always better."