"You Can't Catch Me . . ."

One of the things Nathan told me about his first day of school was that they made a gingerbread man out of real gingerbread. I assumed they also ate the gingerbread man. But it was wrong of me to make such a logical assumption. Apparently they made the gingerbread man and put him in the oven, following the strict instructions the recipe provided about not peeking. Today they returned to the oven to get him out and discovered that he was gone! He had run away, leaving clues (and crumbs) all over the school. Thus the chase began. They followed him all over (getting an excellent tour of the school at the same time), not quite fast enough to catch him in the office, the computer lab, or the library. They finally caught him in their classroom and carried him off to the gym where they stuck a knife in his stomach and then ate him. And yes. I do have a boy child that revels in the gory details. (I love Miss Burningham even a little bit more than I did yesterday. Not only is she giving me five mornings a week with only one of my offspring, but she is keeping my five-year-old happy and engaged while he is learning.)

Nathan was totally hyper when he came home. He told me the story about the gingerbread man and then told me he wanted to make some more gingerbread men to see if they would run away. With such a scientific question at hand, I couldn't resist. Now I know what some of you are thinking. Last time I attempted to make gingerbread, I nearly incinerated the kitchen. But that was working with an unknown recipe and today's recipe is tried and true. So don't fret. I didn't even scorch anything.

After Daniel got home, we made gingerbread men (and women, because although our numbers don't reflect it, we are an equal opportunity household). The big boys loved painting them with edible cookie paint (the cornstarch variety rather than the egg yolk one so that I wouldn't end up making a mad dash for the Benadryl five seconds after Matthew grabbed a cookie). During the entire process, the main topic of conversation was whether or not the gingerbread men would run away. There were even several choruses of the "I Hope They Don't Run Away Anthem," composed and performed on the spot by Nathan the Magnificent.

We made a gigantic, enormous mess and had a glorious, wonderful time. After all, isn't it about . . . time?

The Artist At Work

Concentrating

What Matthew Was Doing While I Was Rolling Out Cookie Dough


The Finished Product
(If you look very closely, you will see that the cookie in Daniel's left
hand is running. I love when my accidental mangling of cookies as I
attempt to get them on the cookie sheet actually turns out to be fun!)