It’s here.

The time of year my kids discover that their mommy is but a mere mortal.

We all know I’m not the craftiest of women.

 —–> Exhibit A <—–

But, that doesn’t stop me from trying.

So, the other day I picked up this gingerbread house kit from Trader Joe’s.

The first red flag that this wasn’t gonna end well was the fact that I was required to actually make the icing.

What kind of kit is that!?

But, I had the egg and vinegar it called for, so it seemed easy enough.

Unless you’re me.

Beat the egg white until it hardens.

I beat that shit for like ten minutes and still had no idea if it was hard enough (hehe).

I mixed the unable-to-get-it-up egg white into the sugar, but it still seemed too dry.

“I’ll add another egg white!”  she thought.

Spoiler: There’s a reason the recipe calls for only one egg.

My icing was way too runny, so I added approximately twenty drops too many of vinegar.

Because who doesn’t want a gingerbread house that smells like pickles?

“Fuck it,” I thought, “let’s build this bitch.”

Here’s some math for y’all.

Pickle-scented-runny-icing + attempting to construct a house made of stale cookies = FAIL.

I accidentally beheaded the daddy, so we laid him down to make snow-angels.

I promised Luca that we’d try again the next day so I bought another kit, only this time with pre-made icing.

It turned out much, much better.

But, man, the icicles pictured on the box are some BULLSHIT.

And, Luca put boobs on the window for some reason.

Men.

But, at least it didn’t taste like pickles.

Later that evening Luca told me, “Mommy, this house is so beautiful. But, the first house we made is disgusting.”

Ouch.