It was the third blizzard in only two weeks. The children had gone back to the oven where at least it was warm. They were tired of snowmen. The snowmen were tired of being snow people. At least two of them were banging on the front door, knocking relentlessly with their frozen, mittened hands.
She couldn’t let them in. They would melt. No matter how hard she tried to explain it to them, they didn’t get it. They just wanted to warm up. It could be very difficult to argue with snow people.
Actually, everything was trying to get into the house, by door, window, chimney or duct. The squirrels were lined up on the deck. Eating birdseed, but they clearly wanted something more solid. Also, maybe a nice cozy bed near the fireplace.
The bears hadn’t been hibernating like usual. Maybe there had been too many warm weeks mixed with the bitter cold ones. They’d been up and around. Hitting the trash bins with a vengeance. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t mind being her personal bear rugs as long as they got some of her baked goodies.
Worst of all, everything that walked, flew or crept was eating her house. That was the biggest problem with having a house made of gingerbread. No matter how solidly you sealed it up, anything with a mouth could gnaw its way in.
She sighed. Back to the kitchen. She needed to bake a new piece of roof and a replacement front step.
A woman’s work was never done.