When you have a baby around Christmas, some things get lost in the shuffle. And when you come up for air on this, the 12th day of January, you don't make a gingerbread house.
You make a birdhouse.
Aptly named, by Harper.
Me: ((squirts huge gob of icing at 9:30 AM and shakes head at questionable parenting)) Where do you want to stick the orange piece?
Harp: In my mouth!
After much brandishing of icing spoon (pictured).. and a calculated lick of the roof, she made her final pronouncement:
mmm....It tastes as good as it smells!