“Pathetic isn’t he?” Ron Weasley asks Harry Potter in the first book of the same name.
“Just a little,” replies Harry.
And pathetic is what you would say to my attempt at building a gingerbread house.
Despite the urge to create a cookie masterpiece, I should have known the end result would be far less spectacular than what I had imagined. After all, my incredibly patient mother vowed she would never make one again.
My brothers and I used to make Christmas gifts from my mom’s brother, sisters and parents. One year, we created six gingerbread houses, which, I might add, looked a lot better than the monstrosity I created yesterday.
First of all, I used a mix. My husband free-handed the house design, which I then baked and cooked up trees, a reindeer and gingerbread men with the extra dough. Yesterday, I whipped up a different type of icing and tried to stick the pieces together.
Yikes.
My peaked roof became a flat one and the entire house has a lean to it. I could hear the ‘Christmas lights’ falling off and hitting the ‘ground’ and the wreath slid down, pushing the door to the floor. But my chimney and gingerbread man look good, and the presents - which I did create - are pretty impressive, too.
Unfortunately, the icing tastes terrible and the cookie itself isn’t that great either. So it will be pathetic decoration for the holidays and then the compost can have it.
