Since the holiday tradition of the Beyer family gingerbread house got derailed by the pandemic last year, this year we did two. Team 1 led by my future daughter-in-law took on the gingerbread castle. Team 2, the pre-built gingerbread house was led by my daughter the Princess (and she did all the work.)
Materials were laid out. Decoration bottles and construction frosting was opened. Squeeze bags that had to be filled were filled and the nozzles were opened.
My daughter used her art talent on the house to turn it into the snowman’s house. One snowman accidentally became a pirate.
The castle was built and ready to start decorating like heck to catch up.
The pirate eye patch turned out to be the Venom symbiote.
The snowman named Ron, the home-owner made of icing, was all melty with sadness over the Venom on the roof.
But the Princess focussed on other details, vowing to fix things later.
The other side started to look better.
The castle was trying to catch up. My son’s art skills helped a bit.
Ron was definitely happier about his house. See him smiling? No? Neither do I, actually. But the Princess declared him elated.
Voila! The finished and fixed snowman house. Ron s sitting there happily in his socks and funky tie.
The castle is gloriously done also. That only left demolition and as much gingerbread-eating as we could manage. To be fair, we had two gingerbread domiciles to consume, and only six of us to do the eating, with at least four of us on diets that don’t allow that much sugar all at once.
Catch a Falling Star 