We made these houses on New year’s Eve. I thought I should take some photos before the little guys give in to the temptation to snack on them.

Our “gingerbread” is really graham crackers. These ideas were helpful. As was having a husband with knowledge of how a real house gets put together and stays together. Also, royal icing makes for perfect “concrete.”

Merry Christmas (Day 9)!

“Why yes, she certainly would!” I replied, and then turned to sweet Gabby who was doing her very best to be up to the moment in spite of her tendency toward shyness.

I whispered her through the basics and told I would walk her to the sacristy and stay there with her until the procession started. She put on a brave smile.

I worried a bit, but I need not have. Gabby was more than up to the task.

She carried Baby Jesus with tender care and presented him to Father with solemnity and grace. I can’t take any credit for that, though. Her confidence was not boosted by my words or presence. It was her older sister who made all the difference.

“It’s a good thing …” she whispered to her little sister as we left the pew, “your hair looks fabulous!”

Good thing, indeed. Sometimes all a girl needs to be ready to carry the Prince of Peace is to be reminded that she is having a good hair night.

Don’t Trade Halloween for Reformation Sunday

And in case you still aren’t convinced, I offer you my annual argument in favor of celebrating Halloween, from a slightly different approach:

Captain America costume in size 3T

Daniel 2009

You gotta love these All Saints Day parties. I like to think of them as a healthy reminder that the saints were human beings. Just like us. Just like our children. And that every one of us is called to be a saint too.

On our way to the much-anticipated party last night, I gave my gang of holy heroes what I like to call a Reminder Lecture about polite behavior at social events. When I was through, Ambrose, in full St. Augustine regalia, turned appropriately reflective.

“I don’t know about you guys,” he mused to his fellow saints who filled the surrounding seats of van, “But when I go out somewhere special, I don’t need a reminder to be good, I just am good.”

Hmmmm, interesting observation.

But the good bishop went on. “Once when we were at a party, some little kid bit me on the leg and all I did was pull him off and tell him he should go see his mother.”

Just as I was starting to feel proud of my saintly son, however, he completed the thought.

“At home, though, it’s waaaaaay different. If anyone bites me, I’m fighting back.”

“Oh yes, definitely,” I heard the sweet voice of St. Clare agree from the back. “Fight back.”

Here’s what we’re making and baking these days:

Pumpkin Bread

Beer Rolls

Pretzels

Brown Sugar Cut-Outs with Royal Icing decoration

Cheddar Cheese Ball

Basic Pie Dough (for apple pies)

Savory Beef Stew

He was up at dawn this morning, suffering with the beginnings of a cold. A runny nose with a sore throat. Poor birthday boy.

He woke me up to ask for a drink and some medicine, and I willed myself out of bed and down the stairs to get him what he needed.

Afterwards, I followed him back up the stairs and we stopped outside my bedroom door. Of course he would be coming back to bed with me. That’s what he does when he wakes in the early morning. He rests for a short while longer with me.

“Actually,” Daniel interrupted as I reached for the doorknob, “I will sleep in my bed.”

Oh.

“I don’t need you,” he explained cheerfully before marching toward his room.

I followed him there and tucked him in. I gave him a birthday kiss and left him there to sleep like a big boy, in his own bed.

When we got up this morning, he gave me his birthday cake request:

“I want it to be a big, tall cake — like a wedding cake — with a triceratops on the top, and decorated with lemons all around it.”

That much will be easy.