Family Daze
Undomestic types should avoid gingerbread houses
By Debbie Farmer
I have to confess that every year in December a strange feeling comes over me. Oh, it's not as if I start adopting stray cats or wearing men's shoes, or anything like that. It's more a sudden desire to do all the domestic things I wouldn't think of doing the rest of the year--such as making bread from scratch or crafting nifty items out of coat hangers and pairs of old pantyhose.
Now, this may not seem so shocking to you, but let me just say that I'm the type of person who glues loose buttons on sweaters and who considers baking as tossing a frozen pot pie onto the microwave and pressing start.
Frankly, I have no idea why this happens. Perhaps I'm subconsciously trying to make up for lost time. Or perhaps it's my way of building lasting family memories for my children. Or, perhaps, it's all of the rum in the eggnog. Whatever reason, it has happened again this year.
I know because the other day my children and I tried to make a gingerbread house.
If you are thinking that a person who can barely make a sandwich has absolutely no business constructing an entire gingerbread house without supervision, you are right. But, let's face it, only certain types of parents are strong enough to resist a Gingerbread House Kit with the words "Fun" and "Easy" in big, red letters on the top--and I'm not one of them.
Besides, it came with everything we'd need: frosting mix, gum drops and prefab gingerbread walls. All in all, it would take 15 minutes to piece together. Twenty, tops.
My children listened as I read the directions out loud. "To make frosting, add one cup of cold water to confectioners' sugar and stir until thickened."
Then I measured the water into the special cup included with the kit and poured it into the bowl.
But, as my son stirred it, I began to suspect there was a problem.
"Mommy, " he said. "Can I stop now?"
I looked into the bowl and the frosting was still thin. So I reread the directions, and it occurred to me that perhaps, "one cup" meant the first line on the special plastic cup and not the second. Naturally, since I couldn't take the extra water out, the easiest thing to do would be to put more confectioners' sugar in. But my kitchen being as it is, the closest thing I could find was a handful of flour and 11 packets of Sweet 'n' Low.
I sprinkled them in when no one was looking; then I continued reading the directions: Let frosting stand for 60 minutes. SIXTY. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be the one to tell two overexcited kids that I was only kidding about making a gingerbread house RIGHT NOW, and that I will be sure to call them in an hour after the frosting sets. Nooooo, thank you.
You may think I'd have given up and wandered away to watch Christmas specials on television. But, noooooo. Instead, I slathered frosting on the edges of the walls, stuck them together, and dried the house with my blow dryer.
Then my children used the frosting to stick gumdrops and eight tiny, plastic reindeer on the roof.
Indeed, if my past experience with Christmas crafts has taught me anything it's that moments like this just don't last. So, I wasn't too surprised when all of the reindeer slid off the roof and were buried beneath a pile of loose gumdrops.
"Cool," my 8-year-old daughter said. "An avalanche."
Call me weird, but as I stood there blow-drying the remaining gumdrops to the eaves, I secretly longed to go back to my simple, undomesticated ways.
Debbie Farmer can be contacted at ParadigmTSA@familydaze.com. Copies of her new ebook, "The Best of Family Daze," can be purchased at her website, www.familydaze.com.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
