Today I had to run out the door in a frazzle. It was gingerbread house making day AGAIN but this time at Kindergarten, and parents were invited (huzzah!). Every five year old needs two gingerbread houses to add to have a decent Christmas.
Amazingly I was able to build ANOTHER gingerbread house with my special Kindergartner before the baby got hungry. My baby has a little bit of reflux, and by “a little bit” I mean he is spitting up every waking moment. It was hard to tell the frosting from the spit up but the point is I DID IT and then we walked home.
Once at home, I had to pick up the breakfast tornado from this morning’s rush, so I didn’t immediately notice it.
I started to sweep and as I swept the floor I wondered absentmindedly when we bought rainbow goldfish crackers. I didn’t even question why there were rainbow goldfish carcasses all over the floor. There is always something all over the floor. But then. But then I looked on the counter and noticed an empty plate. An empty plate surrounded by crumbs.
The dog. The giant dog of mine had EATEN the entire gingerbread house AND the chocolate candy cane. THERE WERE HUGE MARSHMALLOWS. There were gummy candies!
Gingerbread house: 0 Great Dane: 1
For your information I am going to tell Shel that his gingerbread shack/candy cane explosion was eaten by elves. One of the only reasons to really embrace the whole Santa culture of Christmas is to have a scapegoat for the holiday tragedy.
‘Tis the season.
Please don’t worry. This is not the first time my dog has munched on things she shouldn’t. She apparently has a stomach of steel. You need one if you live in my house.