A New Year’s Eve Spent Making Amazing Gingerbread Houses


Understanding our own limitations as middle-aged adults, Laura and I had already planned a fairly laid-back New Year’s Eve. We would be celebrating at our place, and Jim, Lorraine, and Miranda along with Stephanie and Brian would come over for Chinese food and maybe a board or card game. Really exciting stuff. To ratchet up the excitement level, Laura used McKenna’s glitter glue to make “party” shirts.


Against all odds and previous experiences, McKenna’s glitter glue was actually put to constructive use in the making of these shirts.

We wanted Miranda and McKenna to have something entertaining to do that evening, mainly so that the adults would have some peace to play a game. The entertainment for children was provided by Laura and Lorraine, who bought clearance Christmas crafts from Walmart.


Hmmm… 1000 foam stickers stuck to our floors or a gingerbread catastrophe? Let’s go with gingerbread catastrophe.

And what’s that in the bottom right corner of the gingerbread box above?

IMG_4786 - Version 2

Sweet. The box promises that these gingerbread houses will be so easy to assemble that our main task will be to make them amazing. And as any reader of this blog already knows, I’m awesome at making things amazing.

We figured we’d let the kids put together some gingerbread houses and then the adults would play a board game. In order to prepare the kids for the upcoming amazingness, we pumped them full of sugar.


This step was probably not necessary.

Then, we were ready to make some amazing houses out of frosting and gingerbread. We unpacked the package of frosting and pieces of gingerbread. We grabbed one of the tubes, and, after squeezing it repeatedly, white goo shot everywhere. And that’s how we got the frosting on the gingerbread. Pervert.


In spite of the gingerbread company’s promise STATED PLAINLY ON THE BOX that putting the houses together would be so easy that we could focus on make the houses amazing, Jim was unable to deliver on the promised amazingness.


As Brian said, Miranda needed to bring in a new contractor to step in for Jim. Still, the promised “amazing” gingerbread house remained elusive.

The gingerbread houses seemed to be a close relative of IKEA furniture. Inevitably, there was a piece or two in every set that didn’t quite fit snugly. Instead of IKEA cam locks that wouldn’t line up properly, there were pieces of gingerbread about 3/8 of an inch too long, creating large gaps in the gingerbread houses, especially the A-frames. You know what isn’t amazing? A large gap in a house. The solution for any gaps? MORE FROSTING.


The finished product looked more like a gingerbread village that had been sacked by the Mountain in “Game of Thrones” than “amazing.”


A shell-shocked Brian, dispirited by the decided lack of amazing gingerbread houses, could only take solace in the quiet of a room without children.


Of course, when the children in the house had consumed a handful of frosting that shot the wrong way out of the pastry bag, no silence would last long.

By this time, it was almost midnight, and a board game was clearly not going to happen. Moving as far away from our half-collapsed gingerbread village, we decided to make amazing happen with some group pictures.



See! It happened! AMAZINGNESS!!! You are welcome, readers.

Happy New Year!


This pink cup? Also not amazing.

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