When my children were little, we always made a gingerbread house together before Christmas. On Christmas day the children were allowed to eat their creations. One year, we really worked hard on the house and it turned out too good to eat, All of us agreed that it should be saved and brought out each year at Christmas. So I carefully boxed it and put it away. The next year, when we got it out, we discovered a small mouse had been living in the house, nibbling as she went. A story was born. The children in this story are named after our first grandchildren, who share this love of making gingerbread houses with our other six grandchildren.
