Little House.

There is one tradition that we have establishes in our little family. As Christmas draws closer, a parcel arrives from a dear friend. The box is quickly placed in prime position in the kitchen, the troops are gathered, and the contents of said box are spread across the counter. Biscuit, check. Lollies, check. Icing, check. And it’s time to get bulding.

Yum yum, gimgerbread house! I’m always hesitant to start eating it, but it never seems to take more than a week for a house to disappear… we must have gingerbread-loving mice, because it’s not me, I swear!

As I type, I have a semi-conscious toddler on my lap. I’m hoping he drifts back off to sleep, as the short rest he has had doesn’t qualify for a nap. Not liking my chances, but hopeful nonetheless. After a productive day yesterday, I have a mile-high mountain of washing to fold. I have big plans of a coffee, a movie, and daydreaming my way through it. Maybe a break or two for some blog surfing. Or some craft. I think my big plans are about to come crashing down around me. He stirs, I rock, we snuggle. Ahhh…let’s do this!

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