Sweet Nothings
Tonight we made a gingerbread house. Mind you, my use of the word "made" is a little nouveau. When I was a kid, "make" included the connotation of actual baking. Today, "make" means $9.95 for the pre-fab kit. Ahh, progress! But you're getting me off of my point.
My point is that while we were creating our sweet habitat, I expected Ozzie-and-Harriett styled-conversation. You know, stuff like "gee, golly, Dad. This sure is swell." Afterall, it's blowing snow outside and my kids are gathered around the table with sticky fingers. However, if you included non-dubbed dialog to accompany this pic above, you'd hear things like:
"SSTTTOOPP! MOMM! She took my gumdrop."
"Hey! That's my tree!"
{insert dad yelling assorted orderly commands}
and my favorite of the evening,
"It looks like bird poop!"
What?! Huh?! Bird poop?
That last one was offered by none other than my wife, made of course in reference to my attempt to do windows on our house. The nerve!
A little history. I've always been known as the one with no artistic talent whatsoever. When I was a kid and mom got us all porcelain ornaments to hand paint, mine was the one that always needed to be repainted by someone else. When doing art in elementary school, people would often say "what's that?" even after I explained my drawing. Yes, I'm really that bad.
To illustrate the contrast, here's "their" side of the house.
and here's my side of the house:
I suppose the window does have a certain bird-poop look to it. I prefer to think of it as yellow creativity.
So if you ever need any window work, now you know who to call.
The final product:
Despite the windows that will need an HGTV makeover, we all had a fun time assembling the house.
By the way, for the last couple weeks, I've had a dearth of things to post on my blog. Nothing came to me. Thanks to a good insult tonight by Jo, now I'm back on my role. Thanks, sweetheart.
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