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  • By adult standards, it sucked ass. Simply put. I know that, you know that, the whole world would know that simply by looking at the picture. I can't even figure out how to rotate the picture so that it's upright for goodness sake.
    The gingerbread house was weeks late in the making. Life had come in first. Arts and crafts second.
    To my embarrassment, and to top it all off, it wasn't even homemade. It was a kit. From a chain craft store. And it was the "Barbie Dream Gingerbread House" no less. For the daughter of a elementary school teacher, there wasn't a meaningful lesson attached to it's making. Absolutely nothing an intelligent mother would blog about.
    But it was an official gingerbread house. The box said so and we made it because it needed making. On the eve of a great despair we made it. A mega-bad mom break-up and a funeral of a dearly loved grandmother lay on the agenda for the morning ahead, but it was full steam ahead for the gingerbread house. Creativity found its origin sandwiched between Post-Christmas Regret and New Year Anxiety.
    I labored over the assembly while my little girl, the co-creator, played at something in the other room, mostly uninterested in the nuts and bolts of the basic assembly process. I was half tempted to break out the glue gun in lieu of the mortarish icing, but I finally got somewhat of a congealed mass of a structure. Or at least something solid enough to decorate with hard candy.
    The signature Barbie pink icing (you may have missed that element on the Periodic Table) seemed to take roost on the eves of the gingerbread house by only the laws of gravity intervening. We then threw and/or stuck gumdrops and some other out of date candy on the roof and surrounding grounds. And viola!!
    My little girls said "Is it perfect?" and ran away to her room knowing it wasn't. By her standards, anyways.
    I said, "Yes!" Honestly, I really said "Yes!" because I believed and still believe "Yes!". We had defied the laws of despair and created something, anything, when what the world was telling us was to sit and not do a thing but cry.
    I then asked "What makes you think it isn't?" And to this my dear one had only a smile and replied "It's a castle that can't stand up."
    But I thought to myself "Aren't we all".
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