I like candy! I eat it! In my mouth!
Today we had some guests over to decorate gingerbread cookies and mock gingerbread houses (made with graham crackers, that is). More candy went into mouths than the cookies. You see above that Jem had quite a few M&Ms on her cookie; more were added, along with some gummy bears, before she scraped it all off with her spoon. I'm sure she tried to eat the cookie, too, but those things were petrified. I won't be sharing the recipe unless someone needs one for ornaments.
The houses came out fabulous. Bug had a snowman in her lush, green yard, but she ate it. I put her cookie there but am finding it creepy after watching "20/20" tonight.
She didn't eat her tree, but donated hers to Jem after Jem inhaled hers. I'm not looking forward to the sight of green poop.
Post-inhalation remark: Mommy! I sticky!
This was my first time having anyone over to the house since moving here; it's odd to think that I was having friends over at least once a week for a while there in Alaska. I just haven't felt that comfortable here, and haven't felt the house was ready for visitors. I need to get over that, and am glad that today went so well, and that I pulled it off. I've turned into quite the slacker, you see, and was stressing out so much over the list of all the little things that needed to be done before our guests arrived. Not only did all of that get done, I had time to relax with a great cup of coffee and bake the gingerbread men at the last minute. Bug was in charge of the cookie cutter and managed to place a clump of brown sugar just right to give me a snicker.
I named him Wee Willy.
Now before anyone tries to argue with me, saying that it looks much more like a belly button, or that I must now know what a penis looks like, let me share with a clear example that there must be something in the water here that allows people to see things that aren't really there.
Dude was eating shelled peanuts at Logan's the other day and damned if he didn't find Jesus. Dude's insane. It's obviously Jack Black.
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