There is something so enticing about a little house made out of sweet, edible goodies. The first gingerbread house I saw up close was gifted to my family in 1995 by a church member. I was just a child and don't remember who made it for us or why they gave it to us, but it had a strong pull on me. My mom remembers me licking my lips as I took in the wonder of the gingerbread house.
We didn't eat much candy as children, so there were sweets on this little house I hadn't seen or tasted before. It all looked so good! I don't know if the giver intended us to eat her house or not, but it was only a matter of time before we wanted to do more than just look at the treat.
Mom and Dad saw the gingerbread house as a decoration. Conveniently, I don't remember if my parents told us not to touch it. I do remember spending what felt like long hours staring at the little house trying to pick the most inconspicuous piece of candy to pry off and eat.
I grew bolder over time, and one little piece after another made it into my mouth. My sister and brother may have helped me in this. I hope they did, anyway, because I would hate to be the only one who picked at the gingerbread house. Some of the candies were stuck tight with frosting. I only know this because of my attempts to remove them!
Eventually, the gingerbread house wasn't much to look at. Even I was less interested in eating candy that had been sitting out and collecting dust. Mom decided it was time to throw it away. Gingerbread houses don't last forever, and I was sad to see it go, but it did plant the desire to make my own someday.
So, to whoever gave us that beautiful gingerbread house, thank you. You gave three children a lot of joy that year.
Also, thanks to my mom for digging out these pictures!