Who ran over my reindeer?

For my third Viking School outing, I took a class on gingerbread house decorating. I also took along my daughter. Her first time making a gingerbread house; I think it was the first time for me, too.


I'm happy to report it was a fun holiday event, which may become a tradition -- even if it's a DIY kit in my kitchen next year. But with the 10 or so kids and their parents at Viking, it was a collegial atmosphere. Hot cocoa and coffee were available, decorating supplies were quickly replenished and - yay! - no clean-up for me.

Since my daughter's two loves are candy and art projects, she was in her element. And all the better that it involved messy gluing (another favorite activity) with frosting. We both enjoyed being creative in accessorizing our houses.

The final results, I must report, confirm that I am no Martha Stewart (or Duff Goldman). My house itself is fine, but the accoutrements in front of it proved problematic. My little gingerbread man - whose two nonpareils for eyes made him look like an alien - fell down due to insufficient glue and support. In trying to reposition him at home, he snapped in half.

My reindeer, with his too-long pretzel legs shoved in a marshmallow torso, was doomed from the get-go. (In the picture, you can see him upright). No, Rudolph is down for the count, and there's no getting him up. At home, my husband took note of these vaguely subversive elements. Then he pointed to an errant Tootsie Roll (used to try to support gingerbread man), and said, "It looks like Rudolph had an accident."

Norman Rockwell, it ain't. Fodder for the next Cake Wrecks, maybe.