One of my favorite Christmas tradtitions has become, these past three years, to drive up to the Land Bountiful to make gingerbread houses with the Mayfield Clan. I love it because the kids love each other, we always eat a yummy dinner, and most of all I love laughing at Misty and myself. We both want to make a perfect Martha Stewart gingerbread house and yet we know, deep down, that really it's better to actually involve the children in our holiday activities. It is so hard to reign in my impulses to control the whole process. Luckily for me, my kids were so much more interested in eating frosting and candy than actually applying anything to the house:
It ended up looking okay - gingerbread houses always look pretty cute. Well, I made the mistake of keeping the house on a lower piece of furniture this year than last, and the house has seriously suffered the consequences. It only took a day or two before the roof had been picked clean of all candy. Luckily the "frosting" we use is pretty tough stuff, because the kids haven't been able to get much else off, but it's not from a lack of trying, believe me. This evening, after our very disappointing venture (see previous post) I was doing the dishes when I heard Troy laughing heartily. I turned around, and he quietly pointed for me to look through the kitchen doorway into the entryway. I guess Bitty got fed up with our super-strength frosting and took matters into her own hands:
I hope our holiday guest and visitors enjoy looking at the half-masticated, slightly gooey remains of our gingerbread house.