The Furr Family Guide to Building a Gingerbread House

This would be more appropriately titled The Furr Family Guide to Proper Holiday Dysfunction, because this is pretty much how we do everything, holidays or not, but I'll do my best to work with the original title...

1.  Purchase gingerbread house kit with a very hopeful, pie-in-the-sky attitude.  True, the last few attempts haven't gone so well.  But, you never know, this could be the year you get it right!  Deep down, you know it will be exactly the same as last year.  And the year before that.  And the previous five years. But still, you have hope in your heart, and a skip in your step.

2.  Over the next two weeks, each time the kids ask when you're going to build it, reply, "SOON! But.  Not.  Right.  Now."

3.  Finally, gather everyone for the big event!  It's time!  Read through instructions, remembering that the stupid thing has to dry after you assemble it, before you can decorate it.  *cue suddenly disinterested children*
"Can't we just eat the candy? Why do we have to put it together, anyway?"
"I'm going to go play with my toys."
"I'm going to go read my book."
*baby screaming for no apparent reason*
"FINE!  I'LL JUST DO IT BY MYSELF!  I DON'T NEED THE REST OF YOU!"
"Oh my gosh, people! Can't we all just get along and DO ONE FREAKING CHRISTMAS ACTIVITY AS A FAMILY WITHOUT ALL THIS DRAMA????"

4.  Children scatter.

5.  Settle infant in his high chair with frosting on his tray, then get to work.  Baby screams.  Give him more frosting.

6.  Muttering to yourself, begin the gingerbread house.  By yourself.  Because you don't need the rest of them.

7. Baby is fussy, give him more frosting. One child comes back and offers to help; remind him you don't need him. Or anyone else. Ever.

8.  Spouse bemoans lack of artistic talent.  Remind spouse the cat will eat it anyway.  It doesn't have to stand up to earthquake standards, and you're not worried about the the Big Bad Wolf blowing it down.  It does not have to be perfect.  However, because spouse is an engineer, it really does have to be perfect and pass earthquake standards.

9.  Declare gingerbread house finished.  This is the most effort you're willing to put into it.  It's finished.  Baby is covered head to toe in frosting, as is everything within a 100 foot radius of the baby.  His eyes are gyrating in his head from his sugar buzz.

10.  Children reconvene to admire the gingerbread house they just built.  Ohhhhh.  Ahhhh.

11.  Wake up next morning to discover cat has beaten your latest foolproof cat-proofing method, and eaten the carefully constructed house.

12. Swear off ever doing another gingerbread house.  The kids don't actually help, and the cat just eats it.  It's a waste of time.  It really isn't any fun.

13.  Know that you will repeat Steps 1-13 next year. Sigh.