Adaptation

Bella was thrilled with our plan for today. We were going to buy a Gingerbread House kit just like the one we had last year, and she told me, "I'm going to do a much better job this year!" 

But when we got to the store, they had sold out. No kits. Her face fell, her bottom lip quivered, she held back tears. Awww, I said, sympathetically. It's OK to feel sad. I feel sad too. Disappointment hurts. I gave her a moment to collect herself. And then I wondered, "What would it be like if we made one of our own? Do you think we could--naw, probably not." I acted as though I thought this was a dumb idea, hopeless, but I saw it catch on and glimmer.

She brightened. What? How? Make one? With no kit?

We went searching for the walls and she chose graham crackers. I suggested cream cheese for mortar and glue; she picked cheese slices to use in place of dough, and to cut with cookie cutters; and after considering raisins and dried cherries, she chose orange-flavored dried cranberries for ornamentation. We made our own one-of-a-kind Graham House with gingerbread cheese people. We felt it would be a big hit with her mom, who worries about sugar consumption.

We played Christmas music and nibbled on cheese, cream cheese, and dried cranberries while we built our house and talked about the Posada at her school tomorrow.  She attends a Spanish-immersion pre-school, and they're doing a traditional Christmas pageant tomorrow, entirely en español. Three guesses what tomorrow's blip will be.

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