I may have piped icing directly into my mouth.

As part of my ongoing attempt to force myself into Christmas cheer, I caved into the children's demands and purchased a gingerbread house kit. I have never, ever made a gingerbread house before in my life. I was too daunted to actually make the walls. Then when I saw the kit on display at the warehouse club, I grabbed it on a whim. Ten dollars seemed inexpensive for happy children and a little Christmas spirit. When I carried the kit into the house, the children's screams of delight could be heard by all dogs in a five-mile radius. I am hoping to have my hearing back by Friday.

I cracked open the box on Sunday evening, attended by two eager elves with freshly scrubbed fingers. The kids grabbed the walls while I read the directions. "If a wall happens to be broken, DO NOT BE DISTRESSED!" I was slightly alarmed by the strength of the emphasis. Luckily, no pieces were broken so we didn't actually have to test the effectiveness of the instruction. I kept reading. "Assemble the walls at least thirty minutes before decorating." I broke the bad news to the kids. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I convinced them that finishing the project in two days would only prolong the fun. (Good marketing is a secret to good parenting.) I filled the slots in the base with icing as directed. Little fingers emptied the slots of the icing as I started icing the tabs. We were off to a good start.

The walls went up easily. I instructed the kids to hold them up while I prepared the roof. I thought that holding the walls would keep fingers out of the icing. It worked, but I did see a little pink tongue licking the base of the wall. I pretended not to see it as I slapped the roof on. "Ha HA!" I crowed in delight. Then the roof started to slide down. I slid it back up and reinforced with more icing. "Ha HA!" again. And again it started to slide. And again. And again. And again. I finally managed to affix the roof more or less correctly and fill in the inch wide gap at the top with icing. Royal icing is the duct tape of the food world. We set the house aside to dry and I secretly hoped that the children would forget about it overnight.

Yesterday afternoon, I no sooner walked onto the daycare playground before Claire came running toward me. "We're making a gingerbread house! We're making a gingerbread house!" So much for my secret wish. I herded her out of the building while she stopped to announce our plans to every available set of ears. B the time I had hung up my coat and checked the voicemail, the kids were both sitting at the table with the house and the box of candy. I poured myself a glass of wine and joined them.

Thirty minutes, a dozen pieces of stolen candy, hand cramps from piping, and a pretty funny version of the Twelve Days of Christmas later, we had a completed gingerbread house. I stepped back from icicling the roof to get a wide angle view. Surprisingly enough, it's pretty darn cute. It's amazing what white icing and candy can accomplish. As I was admiring our work, Jake asked me the all important question. "So, can we eat it now?"

Is that a goldfish in your pocket?

When I sat down at my desk a little while ago, I felt a strange wad of something in my pocket. It turned out to be three little goldfish crackers. I know that they must have belonged to one or both children because I do not eat the foul things. I cannot remember how or when I put them in my pocket! I have to assume that I did it last Friday since I haven't worn these jeans since then.

Anyway, this is a common occurrence. I often find my children's belongings in odd places with only the vaguest of memories of how they got there. The Playmobil pirate in my purse was probably confiscated at church. The lime green barrettes in my lunch bag? Probably shoved in there some morning when I didn't have quite enough time to fix Claire's hair. (By the way, Claire wears the plastic Goodie barrettes that I remember from my youth. I never wore them because my mother swore they wouldn't stay in my hair. I honestly believe she just didn't want to deal with finding a matching set on a busy morning - a stance which makes more sense every year. Nonetheless, seeing neon pink poodles in Claire's hair gives me indescribable joy.) One day, a glittery pencil with a shimmering translucent star-shaped eraser ended up on my desk at work. I can't even begin to guess how or why.

I love all these little surprises. They remind me of my kids when I'm not with them. They illustrate family life on a small scale - everyone's stuff just gets mixed in together sometimes. We all carry around each other's baggage. So when I'm looking for a mint in my bag and find a Hotwheel instead, I just smile, spin the wheels a bit, and send a little love to the owner.