Each year we decorate a gingerbread house. I say "decorate" because, I have to tell you, I just buy a kit, whatever one is available in the local store. This year it was a particularly small one that came already assembled. Bonus. I rue the day that one is not available and I have to make the whole thing from scratch. You see, it's not my gingerbread house, one that I could meticulously coordinate and decorate, placing each sweet treat exactly as I wish. No, not exactly. My role is simply to keep the sticky white icing available and replace any candies that may fall.
And I'm okay with that. No, really, I am. It's absolutely no problem if one side of the rooftop is wonderfully symmetrical while the other features a chocolate pretzel that was destined for the door. I am okay. I'm especially okay because it's something Young One has learned to look forward to -- decorating her house. It's something she remembers doing with my mom when she was here visiting one Christmas season. It's become part of my family Christmas story. I like that.
One thing I've learned about the kits is that the candy is generally not varied. I've taken to stashing Halloween candy to spice up the house. Luckily for me, Young One is not interested in eating much of that sugar-filled junk, so her house includes Sweet Tarts, varied gummies, Starbursts, Nerds, and the otherwise colorful offerings of Halloween. When she was done with the decorating, I had her dust it with a coat of powdered sugar for that snowy look. My creative craftiness is killing you, I know.
I think she did a mighty fine job this year. It was certainly a bright spot in a long weekend plagued with illness. Never underestimate the power of a bacterial infection in a child.
What's important to your Christmas story? So far, ours includes gumbo, annual ornaments, favorite books, ricotta cookies, and Advent mittens, and, of course, the gingerbread house, or hut in this case. I'm always looking for pieces to add to our annual story.