Today, I had the brilliant idea to have a gingerbread-house-making party. I got this nice Winton gingerbread village kit and put the pieces in front of the kids.
"Have fun building!" I said.
They looked at me kind of funny.
"What do we do with this?"
"Uh, put it together and decorate it."
Okay. So I guess I wasn't dealing with rocket scientists here.
"I'll put them together. You decorate them. Fair enough?"
"Yeah!" they said.
"So we have a couple of traditional houses, a church, an A frame, and, um..., an outhouse." (Well, I didn't know what else to call it.)
The girls took the traditional ones. And my son? He took the outhouse, of course.
"Mama, I'm going to open the door, so the guy can breath in there," my son said.
"What guy?" I asked.
"The gingerbread guy. He's using the potty."
Two seconds later, the wall fell down.
"Oops. Mommy, can you fix this?"
I fixed it.
He loaded the roof up with icing and gum drops. Apparently it was too much for the roof, and it collapsed. Without thinking twice, my son popped the whole thing in his mouth.
Now that's what I call taking care of business.