The Village People

Gingerbread village, that is. A few years ago, I though it might be fun to make a gingerbread house. It was fun, for the children. The next year, of course, they wanted to do it again. And because I am a type-A over-achiever, a simple gingerbread house just wasn't going to cut it. Thus was born the gingerbread village. I am convinced that most holiday traditions can be traced back to an "oh this might be fun" idea formulated by some hapless mother, who was then forced by her children to re-create the event every year for the rest of her poor, tired life.
Now, because I am a type-A over-achiever and a little bit of a perfectionist, I could not bear to sit back watch children follow through with their decorating. I baked and built the houses, provided all the necessary supplies, and then left the room for three hours to let the kids do their thing. From a distance, their finished houses are bright and colorful and lovely. So far, the dog has only managed to jump up and gobble down one of the little gingerbread people (the gingerbread dog, ironically) and take a small bite out of the corner of one of the houses.