“Auntie Kate! Uncle Beau! I didn’t know y’all was coming. Did you bring me presents?” I shoot Prissy a Mom Look but she’s undeterred.
“Does a bear make poo in the woods?” Beau answers, sounding like a total dweeb.
Kate’s got the man so scared to say a bad word in front of that baby she has him saying shit like “make poo.”
“I vow to never steal your man card like that, babe.” I eye our friends, shaking my head in disgust.
“’Preciate it, love.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close while Beau gags on air.
“Could you two be more nauseating?”
“Is that a challenge?” Wyatt asks, before slapping his cousin behind the head. “If so, we have some stiff competition with the two of you.”
“Y’all gonna just stand around here insulting each other?” Mimi inquires, entering from the living room.
“Mimi!” Kate squeals, skittering across the kitchen in her heeled boots to give the woman a giant hug. “It’s so good to see you.” The two rock side to side, drawing the greeting out.
Nope. I’m not jealous at all.
After Mimi and Pop have made their rounds hugging and kissing on the new arrivals, they drag us all into the living room for the grand reveal: a gingerbread house building competition.
“We did this every year growing up,” Wyatt explains. “Our neighbors would come over and judge afterward.” From the look of sheer joy plastered on his face, I can tell there are some very fond memories there.
“Listen up,” Pop says, trying to grab everyone’s attention. “Y’all got one hour to build your houses. Then Wyatt’s arranged for Hank and Marie to come over and do the judgin’.”
Wyatt beams down at my stunned face.
“My parents are coming over?”
He nods. “They couldn’t make it for dinner and the competition cuz of that body they had to pick up at the retirement home, but they said they’d come by to meet my grandparents and visit for a bit after. Worked out perfectly.” He squeezes my hand. “We needed judges…and I’ve never met anyone more judgy than your father.”
Has he met his grandmother?
“This could be the best Christmas ever.” I press a chaste kiss to his plump lips while trying not to swoon over the fact that he thought to invite my mom and dad.
Our holidays are usually spent at the funeral home—just me and Prissy and my folks. It’s extremely rare that they aren’t interrupted with business of some kind. And while it’s nice to be out surrounded by loved ones, doing normal festive things, I still feel guilty for leaving them out.
“That’s what I’m hoping.” He grips my chin, sending a wave of desire rushing through me. “The first of many best Christmases ever.”
“You two ’bout done?” Mimi intrudes, smashing her hands to her hips and tapping her right foot against the floor.
My cheeks flame when I notice the rest of the room staring at the two of us. “Yep,” I say, backing away from temptation. “All done.”
“As I was sayin’,” Pop continues. “The winner gets this here trophy.” He holds up a little six-inch gold gingerbread man in the Heisman stance on a stone block. “And bragging rights for a year. Clock starts…now!”
With that we each grab a seat and set to working on constructing our houses.
“At least Rufus is good for something,” Kate muses, watching her daughter—who’s almost never far enough away she can’t make one quick turn and crawl back up in that uterus of hers—climbing all over him.
“Uh, do you mean Sprinkles?” my little sasshole asks while blobbing icing on the corners of her walls.
“My bad,” Kate giggles. “Forgot he’s a sissy dog now.”
Prissy rolls her eyes before promptly getting back to work.
“How’d you get yours to hold together so well?” I ask Wyatt, who’s already moved on to lining the edges of his house with gumdrops, while I can’t get my damn roof to stop sliding off.
He shrugs. “You gotta get the icing and cookie lined up right. It’s all about balance.”
Prissy’s having about as much luck as I am, so I don’t say a word when I see her little genius self chewing up pieces of gum and sneaking them on the inner corners of her house to use as glue when she thinks no one’s watching.
“I concede!” I announce, ready to throw the damn thing into the trash. “I don’t have the patience for this.”
“You can reconstruct an entire face, but can’t get a few pieces of cookie to hold together?” Kate taunts.
Braggy little bitch.
I toss a peppermint stick in her direction, nailing her right between the tits.
Pop bows out right about the same time I do. His little pile of rubble is nearly as pitiful as mine.
Wyatt and Mimi have the most traditional looking houses, by far, but it’s totally not fair because they’ve done this before. Beau’s roof is lopsided, and it looks like Lucy decorated the damn thing; but I truly have no room to talk. Mine appears to have been hit with a wrecking ball. Kate’s house isn’t too bad…I guess.
Okay, fine. It’s adorable as fuck.
If there was an originality award, it’d definitely go to my daughter. She’s iced the entire thing in black and added nothing but white gumdrops and candy pearls, and a few randomly placed stalks of black licorice. She’s nothing if not consistent.
When my parents arrive, I let them in to wait in the kitchen, since they aren’t allowed to see who’s building which house.
“Time!” I hear Mr. Charles shout.
In the next second they’re all packed into the kitchen, wishing my parents a Merry Christmas. Momma and Daddy seem to hit it off really well with Charles and Melinda. This thrills me to no end. They don’t get the chance to socialize much, so I’m feeling extra emotional and taking care to commit every moment of this special night to memory.
“All right,” Daddy’s deep voice booms through the tiny kitchen. “Let’s have a look at these houses.”
Like a herd of cattle, the crowd moves to the living room.
“I’m gonna murder that stupid mutt,” Kate shouts, pacing along the table edge, taking in the wreckage. She’s usually gaga for that puppy, so her outrage is extra hilarious.
“See,” I gloat. “Cruella.”
“He ate my masterpiece!”
Sprinkles cowers, tucking tail and slinking away to hide behind the couch.
“Maybe it was Lucifer,” Prissy argues. “You ever think of that?”
“Oh, yeah. The baby climbed up on the table and gobbled up every house but yours.”
Prissy shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, if you didn’t see it happen, you can’t go accusin’.”
“Well,” Daddy announces, through a roar of laughter, “guess my girl Prissy wins by default.”
“Only because her house is so creepy, not even the dog would touch it.”
Oh, what would we do without our Kate?
“Go on and get yourself ready for the day,” Mimi orders. There’s no question where I get my habit of early rising from. The two of us are already working on our second cups of coffee before the sun’s come up.