Tiny munchkins gathered around the kitchen table, too many to count. Mostly because no one stayed in one spot long enough, as well as the mass of tiny bodies cramming onto the benches. Every responsible individual {teens etc} held bags of Royal Icing, solely there for the purpose of helping said tinies decorate their itsy bitsy Gingerbread house with various candies and snacks.
Their imagination was the limit, and I watched as they waved sticky fingers in the air, flinging bits of coconut and sugar over the expanse of the kitchen. It was a wonderful & noisy sight to behold. Finally, the little ones traipsed up the stairs in search of baby dolls and toy guns. And the rest of us had the chance to sit down and decorate our own houses with leftover goodies ...
The boy we named Jack came and sat beside me halfways through my project. Caleb and I were busy brainstorming ideas for our little houses -- an unspoken competition between us -- when we had finally come up with an idea for a Fruit Loop wreath and tiny little sugar leaves on the top for depth and interest.
"Know what I'm goina have on my house?" He paused from the still plain looking house in front of him. When I mumbled "hmm?" in my state of concentration, he continued. "Mistletoe."
Caleb made some sort of choking noise from the end of the table. I schooled all facial expression, shooting him a wide-eyed look. "Oh yeah? And what are you doing with Mistletoe huh?"
"Don't chu know?" he questioned me, his eyes dark with surprise. "It's for smooochin, honey."
Did I say, Aren't you a little young for that? or Seriously, child. Get a grip, I'm taken? No, I just smiled and went back to my little house. The next thing I know, Caleb's halfways choking next to me and Peter has gone down on the bench trying to keep it together, while the Backwoods Casanova is oblivious.
And by the end of the night, he had walked over to my dear Daddy-O and said, "I bet you hatee me."
My father had no idea at the time, that the small man-child had formed a crush on me from the first time he'd ever met me. But when Jack informed him, my father immediately gave him the specs { yardage. make & model of his gun if he ran a certain distance etc } * winks *
Jack thought this was quite hilarious, because he came and told me about it right away. A few minutes later, I had locked myself away in my room. Stacks of laundry and Christmas presents littered the floor, evidence that I had been in the middle of wrapping and folding just moments before rushing out the door to pick up the boys.
And now, when the girls had seen every other room in the house, they just HAD to see mine. But the girl would've died if she hadn't been given the opportunity to pack up the presents, and put the clothes away first! The moment I opened the door, the girls were all over my room like little investigators at a crime scene ...
I stepped out. After all, I was only in their way and a half a dozen people crowding into my room proved noisy and cramped. Peter had been playing pool with Luke and suddenly turned around, grinning into his plaid sleeve and somehow managing to shake his head.
"What?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know, but I'd gone and done it now.
"Jack." Peter couldn't hardly talk for grinning so much. "He heard you locked yourself in your room, and he came over and said, 'Whuts wrong with mah garl?' and it was just too funny."
"Oh ... my ... word." The little fella was really full of it, between his mistletoe and everything else. "Are you serious?! What'd you say?"
"I couldn't say much cause I was trying not to laugh. But I said you were fine, and you'd be out in a little while. Then he just went upstairs to wait for you, I think. I don't know!"
Oh brother, was all I could think. But really, it was a fun night full of laughter {mostly on account of Jack's innocent little remarks} and lots of good memories, and creativity. Oh yes, and lots of food and sugar and yummy things. I couldn't help but feel kind of happy that all those sugar-overdosed little munchkins running around my house from one floor to the next shooting toy guns and hiding from one another weren't staying the night. That makes everything twice as nice, you know. * winks *
Their imagination was the limit, and I watched as they waved sticky fingers in the air, flinging bits of coconut and sugar over the expanse of the kitchen. It was a wonderful & noisy sight to behold. Finally, the little ones traipsed up the stairs in search of baby dolls and toy guns. And the rest of us had the chance to sit down and decorate our own houses with leftover goodies ...
The boy we named Jack came and sat beside me halfways through my project. Caleb and I were busy brainstorming ideas for our little houses -- an unspoken competition between us -- when we had finally come up with an idea for a Fruit Loop wreath and tiny little sugar leaves on the top for depth and interest.
"Know what I'm goina have on my house?" He paused from the still plain looking house in front of him. When I mumbled "hmm?" in my state of concentration, he continued. "Mistletoe."
Caleb made some sort of choking noise from the end of the table. I schooled all facial expression, shooting him a wide-eyed look. "Oh yeah? And what are you doing with Mistletoe huh?"
"Don't chu know?" he questioned me, his eyes dark with surprise. "It's for smooochin, honey."
Did I say, Aren't you a little young for that? or Seriously, child. Get a grip, I'm taken? No, I just smiled and went back to my little house. The next thing I know, Caleb's halfways choking next to me and Peter has gone down on the bench trying to keep it together, while the Backwoods Casanova is oblivious.
And by the end of the night, he had walked over to my dear Daddy-O and said, "I bet you hatee me."
My father had no idea at the time, that the small man-child had formed a crush on me from the first time he'd ever met me. But when Jack informed him, my father immediately gave him the specs { yardage. make & model of his gun if he ran a certain distance etc } * winks *
Jack thought this was quite hilarious, because he came and told me about it right away. A few minutes later, I had locked myself away in my room. Stacks of laundry and Christmas presents littered the floor, evidence that I had been in the middle of wrapping and folding just moments before rushing out the door to pick up the boys.
And now, when the girls had seen every other room in the house, they just HAD to see mine. But the girl would've died if she hadn't been given the opportunity to pack up the presents, and put the clothes away first! The moment I opened the door, the girls were all over my room like little investigators at a crime scene ...
I stepped out. After all, I was only in their way and a half a dozen people crowding into my room proved noisy and cramped. Peter had been playing pool with Luke and suddenly turned around, grinning into his plaid sleeve and somehow managing to shake his head.
"What?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know, but I'd gone and done it now.
"Jack." Peter couldn't hardly talk for grinning so much. "He heard you locked yourself in your room, and he came over and said, 'Whuts wrong with mah garl?' and it was just too funny."
"Oh ... my ... word." The little fella was really full of it, between his mistletoe and everything else. "Are you serious?! What'd you say?"
"I couldn't say much cause I was trying not to laugh. But I said you were fine, and you'd be out in a little while. Then he just went upstairs to wait for you, I think. I don't know!"
Oh brother, was all I could think. But really, it was a fun night full of laughter {mostly on account of Jack's innocent little remarks} and lots of good memories, and creativity. Oh yes, and lots of food and sugar and yummy things. I couldn't help but feel kind of happy that all those sugar-overdosed little munchkins running around my house from one floor to the next shooting toy guns and hiding from one another weren't staying the night. That makes everything twice as nice, you know. * winks *
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