oh, you evil thing. every year, it is “can we build a gingerbread house?” whose idea was this, to bring this bane of existence into households everywhere. here i am struggling to shove the icing into a piping bag, keep the decorator tip on (i now realize i probably should have had the tip inside the bag), while keeping the bag from untwisting, while keeping enough pressure to have the icing ooze out. and ooze out it did. everywhere but through the tip. the boy literally doing jumping jacks next to me with anticipation of decorating the house. candy is everywhere, icing drying faster than you can say “uncle” and the walls are not quite to code. nonetheless, we have mild success. the boy goes to work decorating. “beading” the window, placing the door knob on just so, decking the roofline with several chimney stacks, and a honking huge “mistletoe” on the roof. he loved it. talking about how delicious it would taste christmas morning. in one week. i don’t think so, kid. after a final building inspection, the mini cottage looked good. picturesque enough for the page of a fairy tale book. and then … it falls apart. they all fall apart. ugh. the defeated look on both our faces as we look upon a pile of rubble. the boy begging me to put it back together. i do some patch work, and so far….so good. just don’t breath on it.