I’ve been dreaming about this day for years.
The day we would sit together as a family, creating beautiful gingerbread houses that would make any Pinterest goer green with envy. Oh, yeah. I got this. Except not.
I was so excited to be able to share this special time with my toddler, making gingerbread houses for the first time. Something I hoped we would be able to turn into an annual tradition. But now, my hopes and dreams have been forever ruined because I realize that I suck at making gingerbread houses. I mean, I’m terrible at it. I mean, it’s pretty bad. Like really bad.
Let’s backtrack to earlier in the weekend when I braved the crowds
in hell at our local Walmart for some wine and gingerbread house making materials. Somewhere in the store, nowhere near the candy and graham cracker aisles (because, you know, it’s Walmart and nothing makes sense), I saw actual gingerbread house decorating kits. “Pffft! PAH-LEESE,” I said to myself, “That’s for idiots who don’t know how to decorate their own houses. Not me!” And so I spent more than I care to admit on candy, frosting, graham crackers (which I used, instead of making gingerbread, to save time), and various other little treats that we could adorn our lovely homes with.
As we sat down at the table to start decorating our homes, I was thrilled. Mostly at the idea of documenting our awesome journey in gingerbread house making to gloat about on Facebook (yeah, I’m awesome) but also because it’s our first year doing this. I actually cannot remember the last time I decorated a gingerbread house. It may have been never. I consider myself to be a relatively crafty person so I had no doubt in my mind that I was going to rock that shit.
My toddler lovingly placed rainbow sprinkles across her rooftop.
She was so careful and meticulous about placing the decorations on her house. I was so proud.
My husband’s craftsmanship. He is, perhaps, one of the least artistic people that I know and in this particular case, it worked to his advantage. He was extremely proud that he created something that looked somewhat like a house and actually remained intact as he completed the project. HOORAY lowered expectations.
Pretty quickly after I started constructing my gingerbread mansion, I realized that I’m not cut out to be a contractor. I have no idea what it means to create vaulted ceilings and it’s safe to say that no gingerbread men will be hiring me to play a part in the construction of their homes. I opted for a flat roof with Kit Kat solar panels on the roof (because, you know, being environmentally conscious is important to me and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was incapable of making a structurally sound roof). It looks more or less like a safe house that would harbor a wanted terrorist for interrogation rather than a comfortable environment for any loving gingerbread family.
At some point, through no fault of her own, my daughter’s house came crashing to the ground. Presumably crushing all of its gummy bear residents under mounds of sweet, sweet rubble.
Here they stand…our condemned gingerbread neighborhood.
Next year we’re buying a kit.