So this past weekend, the library had a little gingerbread making session. We showed up on Saturday morning, and the kids were herded into the odd crafting/storytelling room off the kids book dungeon. (For all you Mason librarians..Don’t get me wrong, I have deep deep love for my public library. I just think that the basement kids room is a little funny, and you might even agree with me, right?)
The little builders hoisted up their sleeves and got to it. Each was given an endless supply of graham crackers and ice cream cones, and their very own tub of “delicious” white frosting.
It was a little bit awesome.
We hung out in the kid’s library and Joey talked about kid’s comics with a poor unsuspecting friend who walked out of there with a stack of books. I’m serious about this- if you run into Joey in the library, just be ready to go home with a heavy load.
Rosie ate half of her tub of frosting and looked green by the end. Sadie, in her usual fashion, was the last to complete her masterpiece. The morning was a great success.
But now I have these ginger bread houses. I’m feeling a little grinch-y about them. They fill the house with the smell of “delicious” frosting. The girls claim that a bug was stuck in one of the yards yesterday, but then freed itself. And then there is my unreasonable objection to food that one cannot eat. I know there are a whole lot of gingerbread house lovers out there, but I can’t help wanting to eat things that I make.
But I know, I didn’t make these- my children did. And they are quite lovely. But this morning, after five days, I told the girls that the gingerbread houses were going away, before any other critters found them. They said goodbye to their little candy compound and ran off to school. They were fine with it. Really!
Why am I confessing this all to you?
Well, I am the kind of girl who loses her mind in a cluttered house. Joey and I lived in a little yurt before Sadie was born, and I still dream of returning to tiny circular living. (I block out the centipedes and the spidery outhouse with my skilled memory) I also am the odd woman out in an immensely crafty family. There is art everywhere in my house.
Including in my garbage. And I’m the one who puts it there.
So, if I take a picture, and I tell you about their lovely little gingerbread houses, then they will live on, even after they are gone. And with that, I use my art to preserve their art. And it doesn’t even clutter the table.