perhaps my mum instituted the tradition, as a placation, having endured my moaning about the woes of a birthday bordering christmas for the billionth time. or perhaps it began on a whim, and my brothers and i enjoyed the enterprise so thoroughly it became an annual thing.
in any case, sometime during my childhood it became unwritten law that we construct gingerbread houses every year on my birthday (and i use the word 'gingerbread' very loosely, in most cases meaning 'honey maid graham crackers'). unwilling participants are advised to run and hide, because if you are spotted under my roof come december 21st, participation is compulsory. triple f, baby.**
my friend crystal, who knows me frighteningly well (well, i'm certain the knowledge is frightening for her; i'm good with it) suspected that with our scrimping and saving for the adoption, i might not purchase the makings for my birthday houses this year.
she appeared last week at my front door, laden with candies and frosting and grahams. i have the best sort of friends.
so monday evening, the littles and the hubby and i happily carried on the tradition, amidst hot chocolate and a rather pitiable christmas playlist.
it's fun (and telling) to observe our varying design styles; hubby took on traditional gingerbread architecture, zee had an over-the-top seussian approach, em went for speed, bee was all about juxtaposing right angles and curves, i aimed for a clean but cozy look, and elle's philosophy was 'eat as much candy as possible during the constructing, whatever's left goes on the house.'
our temporary housing development:
(makes you want to hire us for your next home addition, doesn't it?)
thanks, crystal, for making sure my day was incredibly sweet.
**Forced Family Fun at its finest.
'love, mama' series | andrea jenkins
4 hours ago