If I can do it...

Seriously,  as a true holiday Fucktard (my new favorite term How have I survived this long without?).   I am featuring my own DIY Tuesday, my gift to any possible holiday Fucktard followers of mine.  It didn't occur to me to document  this project until it was clear that it was going well enough that I could back off and grab the camera and a seat, assuming roles of chilled out director, gopher, clean-hand helper, and cheerleader.Having never participated in construction of a gingerbread house, I must say, I am dazzled by the ease, the fun, and the turnout.  With FT at the helm and an almost 3 year old as my main wing man, my expectations wavered.  And still, look what we did. A certain holiday tradition.

I apologize in advance for the cluster-fuck of pictures.  Today, I embrace my fondness for and unstoppable urge to say the word fuck.  Hopefully, with minimally adverse affect on those of you with more able vocabularies. 

Unable to organize the photos, write in the giant and vacant spaces beside and under pictures, insert fucking captions, I am starting to feel more hostile and the glow of my achievement is quickly waning.  My achievement:  creating holiday enjoyment, ritual, and memories, doing what I have never done before.

Hours later, here I sit repeatedly attempting the same unsuccessful tactics to insert info detailing what made this endeavor so successful by FT standards.   What is so frustrating is that I am sure it is quite simple with a bit more time and rest and a few less interruptions for the sake of focus.

First off, I would have never considered making a gingerbread house with a child.  For me this would have been an activity requiring complete focus and solitude. 

The project began when friend-hero(lady I tutor for lady for whom I tutor) offered me a piece of foam core with a simple house constructed from 2 folded pieces of posterboard as a base for the project.  Immediately, it seemed both doable and silly to say no. Although I did say NO at first. After listening and seeing how truly easy it could be, even for(wait for it...) a holiday fucktard, I gave in, feeling equal parts apprehension and confidence,.

Then,  knowing me in all of my fucktardedness, she thought it best to hot glue gun the graham crackers to the posterboard house for me.  Ok,  I'm feeling extra confident at this point.

Along with my prefab house(which I know for sure I could make by myself)she sent me home with a baggy of assorted candy and marshmallows.  I am the Einstein that thought to break out the pretzel sticks to give our little chateau some definition.

So, here is what we did:
We used white frosting to cover the house.
Threw in a little green food color to make some green for the tree and the grass.
Candies were applied here and there in no particular fashion or pattern that I can identify.
Pretzels filled the gaps between the graham crackers, made windows and trees.  They were able to stand after being stabbed into the tiny marshmallows.
Finally, tons and tons of sprinkles.  Ernie's favorite parts were:  SPRINKLES, sticking the Santa wrapped chocolate on the tree and the peppermint swirly candies onto the house.  Marshmallow stabbing got some good laughs.  It was so much fun working and playing together, watching immaculate and orderly Andy allow the mess and watching an equally immaculate and orderly Ernie attempting to maintain order over fleeing sprinkles and clingy frosting.  Andy announced that next time he would like his own house which is very symbolic of the we way live.  Amusing and symbolic and very true.  He shall have his own next year.