(Title – Courtesy of Jesse J)
Hello, blog readers – specifically Rachel Lynn Partin. Thank you for continuing to check my blog, despite my lack of dedication. I appreciate you.
It is so nice being home, sitting in my room, listening to Jesse J’s new song on repeat – thanks to Liz for introducing us! – not worrying about anything, except whether Lord Voldemort will prevail. … Don’t tell me anything!
My family started a new tradition this year. We had a friendly gingerbread contest … that turned into a dog-eat-dog, Schott-destroy-Schott, fierce competition – our kind of fun. Tyler and Trevor’s friend Stephen also participated, but I think from the get-go we all silently agreed that the real competition would be among the Schotts. For one thing, Stephen said he had never built a gingerbread house. Surely, he stood no chance against us professionals.
Dad bought all the supplies, we gathered everything on the kitchen table, and we set the timer for an hour. Kenzie said it would be like that cooking show – when the time is up, you have to immediately stop. How legit, right?
We soon began quickly and aimlessly stacking graham crackers on top of each other and sneaking glances across the table. With a look of determination, Kenzie was gluing marshmallows together with icing, creating a well-insulated but ugly roof for her house. Trevor was squirting marshmallows with yellow food coloring, making them look like they’d been peed on, and Tyler was taking artistic bites out of graham crackers and weaving licorice through them. We soon agreed Tyler’s efforts were hopeless, and we ruled him out of the competition.
In one of his more desperate moments, Tyler even mumbled to me, “Sam, is my house even good at all?”
“Sure it is,” I lied.
After a while, Tyler consulted me again, asking whether he should create a pathway leading up to his house, made of candy canes draped with licorice. I told him that probably wouldn’t look good, but he defied me and went ahead anyway.
Meanwhile, my aimless building had come to a standstill, and I was spending my time writing ‘The Schotts’ with sprinkles in the front lawn of my house. In retrospect, this was not a good use of my time and resources.
The timer finally rang, and along with it came Kenzie’s frantic pleas for more time. Tyler and Trevor whined as well, and I was outnumbered. We added thirty more minutes, during which I added more and more snow to my measly house. I hoped the others would come out terribly; then mine might stand a chance.
We all finished up, and the judges – Mom and Dad – came to the kitchen to review our work. We required that Mom and Dad discuss the houses and agree on a first and second place, without knowing who built which house.
After some time, Mom announced the winners, and chaos erupted. They awarded Stephen's second place, and Tyler first, which I still find preposterous. The whole time I thought Tyler’s was a mess, and Stephen has never made a gingerbread house! His can’t be good! And he’s not even a Schott! We should disqualify him!
But it was too late for that, and the three rejected Schotts had to accept our fates as losers. Mom offered us unsolicited advice for next year, AKA she told us what was wrong with our houses…
Kenzie’s didn’t have a front door, and the marshmallow insulation was weird. Mine was too contemporary and didn’t have a front yard. (She didn’t really count my sprinkle creation as a front yard.) She didn’t understand Trevor’s yellow bushes or his “Gumdrop Garden.” Stephen’s, however, was very neat and traditional, and Tyler’s candy cane walkway was very cool. … Right, that’s what I said.
We also asked Mom and Dad to guess whose house was whose, and they both decided mine was the first place house (Stephen’s). I felt both flattered and deflated, as though I had not lived up to their expectations that my house would be the best.
The houses are still on display in the kitchen, and as guests come over, we ask them to judge and identify them. Tyler and Stephen have been declared the winners by about ten stupid visitors, and I have had one person declare mine the best – my four-year-old cousin, Zac. Hey, I’ll take it.
Kenzie’s won over eight-year-old cousin Philip, and Trevor’s won over John. John was also the only person to instantly guess which house was mine. He also didn’t hesitate to tell me mine was definitely the worst one.
These people just can’t appreciate a little creativity.
Aside from all the gingerbreading, we’ve also been enjoying new Christmas gifts. Dad got a lazy-boy, which he spent all of Christmas day sitting in, and Grandma got a cell phone, which she reluctantly accepted. We offered her many chances to practice using it during the day, calling her from across the room and instructing her on how to answer and hang up.
When I woke up on the 26th, I was very excited to see “Grandma’s Cell” flashing on my screen. She must be getting the hang of it!
Sam: Hey Grandma!
Grandma: Oh, I didn’t mean to call you, sweetie. Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.
I told Grandma I was already awake, but she didn’t believe me, and she shooed me off the phone. … So I went back to sleep.
We’ve also played a great deal of Salad Bowl, during which we got to watch Kenzie act like a dinosaur for a whole minute, viciously swinging her arms around and pretending to eat plants. She also got “moves like Jagger,” for which she acted out “swag” and walked around the room like a thug.
Kenzie also got ‘The Broncos,’ for which she alternated between Tebowing and huddling with make-believe fellow football players. Instead of frantically guessing, my cousins, Kenzie’s laid-back teammates, told her she wasn’t doing the Tebow right. Obviously, that’s a problem that should be fixed immediately, in the middle of their one-minute chance to earn points.
Thanks for reading. I’ll blog again soon … maybe.
Hope your Christmas is as merry as mine is!
