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Smarti stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, surveying the ingredients before him. Gingerbread walls, a bowl of royal icing, and a variety of colorful candies lay meticulously organized. His plan for redemption after the unfortunate Lego cottage was simple: build a gingerbread house for Eric. Don’t overdo it.
“Well, simpler,” Harold remarked, chomping on a candy cane. “At least compared to your last project.”
Smarti ignored Harold’s jibe. “This time, I’m taking a no-nonsense approach. It’ll be elegant, straightforward, and perfectly delightful for Eric.”
“Great plan!” Harold said with a grin. “You start, and I’ll…supervise.”
Smarti arched an eyebrow but decided to let it slide. He carefully piped icing onto the edges of two gingerbread walls and pressed them together. The precision was immaculate.
“Needs more flair,” Harold said, tossing a gumdrop onto the roof.
Smarti snatched the gumdrop off. “This isn’t about flair, Harold. It’s about symmetry and structure.”
Harold tilted his head. “So no gummy bears out front?”
“No gummy bears!”
“But what if—”
“Absolutely no gummy bears!”
Harold pouted and sat down, gnawing on a licorice rope. Smarti, satisfied with his progress, continued to construct the house. Slowly but surely, the walls stood upright, the roof was secured, and the house took shape.
“Done!” Smarti declared, wiping a smudge of icing from his brow.
“Wow,” Harold said. “It’s… neat.”
“Exactly.” Smarti beamed. “A classic design. Elegant simplicity.”
“But…” Harold began, his nose twitching.
“But what?” Smarti’s eyes narrowed.
“Where’s the fun? Eric’s six, remember? This house needs pizzazz!”
Smarti groaned. “Harold, fun isn’t always about pizzazz. Sometimes it’s about…” He paused, gesturing at the house. “This.”
Harold stared at him, unblinking. Then, with a single flick of his hoof, he launched a handful of marshmallows at the house.
“Harold!”
“Just a little snow, Smarti!” Harold grinned. Before Smarti could stop him, Harold picked up a tube of icing and began doodling a lopsided snowman on the side of the house.
“That’s not—”
“And some gummy bears for neighbors,” Harold added, plopping the candies along the gingerbread walkway.
Smarti’s jaw clenched as Harold stuck a licorice swing onto the roof. “You’re—ruining—it!”
“I’m making it fun!” Harold sang, now adding a pretzel fence.
The gingerbread house no longer resembled Smarti’s original plan. Instead, it was a chaotic masterpiece of candy, icing, and whimsy. Smarti looked ready to combust.
“Harold,” he said through gritted teeth. “Step. Away. From. The. House.”
Harold took a step back, surveying their creation. “Perfect, don’t you think?”
“Perfectly ridiculous,” Smarti muttered.
But as he wrote yet another rule for The Book later that night—Do involve the giraffalope in creative projects. Don’t let said giraffalope have free rein unless you’re prepared for candy chaos—he couldn’t help but smile just a little.
After all, Eric’s laughter the next morning had made it all worthwhile.
a pinch of homestead 