In my living room are three ten-and-under-year-olds armed with 57 tubes of frosting, 8 jars of sprinkles and cookie sheets full of naked gingerbread men. And here I sit, writing my blog and hitting refresh on the Survivor Spoiler sites in hopes of getting the REAL STORY in the next 40 minutes.
The chefs are behaving themselves absolutely gloriously, and have been busily decorating cookies for the past hour. No fighting, no biting. It's awesome.
My house that was clean yesterday is now a yummy cookie mess. The kitchen is lightly dusted with flour and smells like sugar and spice. The living room is awash in sweet creativity. The kids have chosen to watch Scrooge during their decorating mayhem, and TinyTuna has already adopted a faux-British accent for the occasion. Others may cringe at the holiday disarray, but as I see it, everything washes, wipes or vacuums, so it's all good.
God bless us, everyone.