Gingerbread House
Regina’s annual gingerbread house was the pinnacle of Christmas decoration. It was an edible craft made with angles and complicated math, cut under a magnifying glass with careful precision. Every year since she had started celebrating she would make this magnificent structure. It was the envy of everyone who came to their Christmas party. Once their guests had disappeared for the night, Regina and Henry would curl up with a Christmas movie and devour the whole treat. When Emma joined the family a few years ago, they had switched to a cookie house due to her intense hatred for gingerbread.
Now, Regina’s house was usually a work of art. The scalloped icing on the roof was flawless, the gummies meticulously measured and placed, the royal icing decorations intricate. This year, a Little Emma had stumbled into the kitchen after Regina had glued together the pieces with melted chocolate. Emma had insisted she help, and Regina – though desperately wanting to be left to it – couldn’t bear to turn her away.
The moment Regina’s carefully crafted house was placed before her, Emma turned the bowl of icing over the top and cackled with glee as it drizzled down. With the thickness Regina had lovingly mixed, it moved slowly, and she had a long time to watch her pride and joy be smothered.
The look of joy on Emma’s face was worth it. She turned to Regina with the broadest, toothiest grin as the icing dripped over the sides into sugary puddles on the kitchen counter. Only when she stooped down to lap it up like a cat did Regina intervene, placing her hand on Emma’s shoulder and steering her gently back.
She moved the bowls of candies and chocolate closer while she fetched the tub of sprinkles from the baking cupboard. It wasn’t something that usually graced her house, but she supposed Emma would enjoy it. The blonde shrieked with glee at the sight, extending grabby hands as she bounced in place.
Regina handed it to her without any qualifiers such as ‘not too much’ and kissed her on her crown before beginning to clear up. Despite still having a good ten hours before anyone arrived, Regina needed every spill, book, or pencil to be cleared away immediately. For now, she would turn a blind eye to the monster wreaking havoc in the middle of the kitchen.
She filled the dishwasher, swaying in tune with the gentle Christmas music still playing from her phone. Every now and then, a squeal of delight would erupt from her girl, and Regina would smile a thousand-watt grin. This was what Christmas was about. When Henry was small, he would be given a sheet of gingerbread men to decorate and her house would be stored far out of reach, but maybe this was a better way to do it.
Regina knew she might feel a little differently in a few hours when this creation was sat on front of her guests. A tiny niggle in the back of her mind wondered how she might explain it, but she brushed it off. Adult Emma could surely do just as strange a job if left unattended.
Regina usually took at least an hour to carefully decorate the gingerbread house. She overbought on sweets, chocolate, and icing, and as such, there was always plenty left over. Emma took all of twenty minutes. Within that time, everything across the counter was atop the house. Or perhaps in Emma’s stomach, one couldn’t be certain.
If Regina had had any lingering regrets about Emma decorating, it dissipated immediately the moment she saw the pride on her baby’s face. There was an incredible sparkle in Emma’s eyes as she looked between the house and Regina, waiting to see her reaction.
Regina closed the distance, brushing blonde hair behind Emma’s ears. “You did a wonderful job, darling.”
She slipped from the chair, her little socked feet making a soft thud on the tiled floor. “We eat it now?”
“After the party, dear, as we always do.” Regina moved to shift the house out of the way but paused when she saw Emma’s pout.
The little girl skimmed her foot on the floor. “I wanna do it now.”
“You want to watch a movie and eat it now?” Regina reiterated, to ensure she had understood properly.
“Uh huh.” Emma pulled herself up on the island counter, resting her chin to peer up with big doe eyes. “Please? Just this once.”
Regina looked between the monstrosity she had quickly come to adore, and the gingerbread house. She couldn’t really use this as a holiday decoration anyway, and Emma looked so earnest standing there. The holiday party didn’t desperately need a gingerbread – or cookie – house. Besides, how else was she supposed to keep a four-year-old from destroying her pristine home anyway?
Her expression softened, and Emma knew she had won. “Ok, baby. Go set it up.”
The little one darted off while Regina prepared hot drinks – cocoa for Emma and coffee for herself – and carried the whole thing through on a tray. It had only been five minutes, but Emma had bundled up several blankets across the couch, a handful of soft toys, and queued up Rise of the Guardians – one of Emma’s favourite ‘Christmas’ movies – on the TV.
The drinks were placed on the side while Emma’s creation stood on the coffee table. Regina procured the mini-hammer Henry would insisted on demolishing the house with, and Emma’s face lit up in the same way his always had. She smashed it down on all of their hard work. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth smack, the roof crashed down into the house, flattening the four walls and most of the erect trees. Emma burst into laughter as she snatched half of a piece of roof, burying herself under the covers to munch on her treat.
Regina settled in beside her with a much more manageable piece. She wrapped her arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her crown. This was nice: relaxed, easy, her baby at her side.
Later when their guests asked where the beautiful gingerbread house was, both women would concoct separate, elaborate lies about how the other had sabotaged the decoration. Nobody but them would ever be clued into the whole truth.