Gingerbread Apology

My non-lollygagger Mom has been constructing gingerbread homes in a variety of designs for her grandchildren and greats since the early 1980's. Traditionally these yummy homes have received their final decor on Thanksgiving weekends and were lovingly boxed for the trip home. Once home, they have decorated mantels, sheltered a mouse, and disappeared piece by piece over the advent season. It occurred to me that my participation in this ritual has been minimal, and other than supplying two grands and a great, I have contributed nothing but after construction maid service.

Making an appearance in Europe via the crusaders, gingerbread has been smashed into molds to decree the days news, formed into man by Queen Elizabeth I, and if privileged eaten as a gold iced cookie. Considered an art form in Germany, gingerbread houses became popular after the Brothers Grimm scared the devil out of little ones with "Hansel and Gretal". It was those German settlers who brought this 19th century custom to America and the home of Fred and Marjorie Wolf.

Decorator age limits remain hazy with 21 years old being the limit, unless you are without spouse and above average design ability. Aunt Diane supplied the spicy smelling sheds this Thanksgiving and Jude, Camden and Josh adorned them with mortar, M&M's and bright colored confections supplied by Mrs. Carel. Jordan and Jackson were in Kansas City, but their homes patiently await paint and I vacuumed.

So Mom and Dad, thank you for starting and continuing this family tradition. I appreciate the hours of planning, experimenting and baking which have developed into afternoons of fun and memories.