I spent some time looking at old Christmas photos this morning, and my favorites were of the boys making cookies. There would be flour and sprinkles from one end of the kitchen to the other, and our dog, Roxy, and our tiger cat, Jake, would be nearby waiting for the opportunity to scarf down whatever hit the floor.
Those were good times, and viewing those photos triggered the memory of the one and only gingerbread house I ever made for the boys. One or both of them wanted a gingerbread house "really bad". I had the presence of mind to purchase the ready made gingerbread pieces from a local bakery, and I remember presenting the finished house to them on Christmas morning to their delight and amazement. The only other thing I remember about that house is royal frosting. Royal frosting. Royal pain. Just sayin'!