Although I have not yet conquered my photo storage and back-up issues, I can't go another day without a nod to our holiday celebrations last week. We're gearing up this week to welcome the new year, but I'm not done with the current one yet.
Anyway, constructing our gingerbread houses turned out to be the ideal Christmas Eve afternoon diversion. Gingerbread houses are really not for the feint of heart, and although we've been making them for years they really aren't ideal projects for very young children (unless you've done all the construction ahead of time and are prepared for a big mess -- huge mess). Over the years I have successfully changed my deepest understanding of the word "perfection," and define that now as what gives purest pleasure -- not the same as pristine, as Martha, as professional (where I'd been aiming in my past, before I learned better). Our houses stood, and they made us happy.
(Many canned goods are handy during the construction phase, to help hold up walls before the icing sets. No hot glue guns nor pins were used in the assembly process, which is also a big step up from where I started.)
Dean got the hang of the pastry bag and never looked back. He kept wondering what the gumdrops might taste like but refused to try one; I guess another potential hazard of the activity *could* be children who are inclined to eat the candy, but since we weren't using chocolate Dean wasn't biting.
Santa was good to us all, and left loot for Biscuit even though we never did get his stocking done.
Why we do it. What I love to remember.