He was never supposed to have two eyes. That is the first thing to understand about my gingerbread folk.
They are cyclops by nature — one big, expressive eye right in the middle of everything, seeing the world all at once and missing absolutely nothing. One eye, zero apologies. Some of them wink at you (a neat trick with only one eye), some look permanently delighted, and all of them are impossibly proud of themselves.
I hand-paint every gingerbread fellow myself, so no two are exactly alike. That single eye is where the personality lives: curious, cheeky, a little bit wise. They remind me that you do not need to match the cookie-cutter to be the sweetest one on the tree.
Hang him somewhere you will see him when the day goes sideways. He is living proof that being born a little different is not a flaw. Around here, it is the whole recipe.
