Tonight as Greg was leaving for work, I decided a fun pre-bedtime activity would be to build a gingerbread house. It’s been on the counter for a week, torturing ‘lil souls who just wanted to eat the candy and frosting.
Or torturing their Mama who wants all the sweets.
I didn’t read the instructions, just pulled the house out of the box and got to work. When I couldn’t decipher what piece was what, I
did what any woman do and read the directions. Even then, it wasn’t clear to me this was going to take almost an hour and a half and the pieces just wouldn’t quite fit together. This bothered all three of us and our OCD. Especially when I picked up the front of the house and it fell apart. I almost threw the whole thing in the trash, cried, and stomped off…but I remembered I am the mom and needed to show them accidents happen and we would work around it.
Patiently, my two ‘lil ones watched as the house came together, fell apart, came together. (It was kind of like the whole home buying process all over again…grand visions…minor setbacks…small victories…then living in something you can call home.) I quickly snapped a photo as proof in case it fell (and rushed the kids off to clean the Oreo from their lips before letting them share in the glory).
They really just wanted that candy.
The directions said to let the icing set for 15 minutes. I went for 20 and told the kids 10. We had to leave the room after 2 because all three of us were scared to breathe lest the house would fall.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting and watching Arianna play stack cup 1000 times, the timer went off and we were in full on decorating mode. Pro tip (ha), use a rubber scraper to spread the snow “cause that’s how we do it in America, Mama” as Arianna advised.
Icing in our hair and on our jammies, the house was done. And as of this post, she’s still standing. Let’s hope Daddy gets to see it before the great fall…