About a month ago, my daughter celebrated her birthday. As you can expect, there were gifts, and those gifts each required their very own thank-you card. We eventually got to the point where she actually asked if she could stop OPENING these gifts just so she could be absolved from writing these cards, which hopefully gives you a good indication of just how much she detests this process.
Anyway, it had become quite the chore to present her with a pile of construction paper every day and instruct her on what she needed to write, and honestly, this mama was getting TIRED of spelling out the same words over and over again. So after about a dozen of these, I finally told B that I was going into the other room and that I had “full confidence” that she would be able to handle the next one. After all, she was just supposed to copy and paste what was on the previous card that she had just finished.
Easy peasy, right?
Wrong.
At first, I thought we were doing pretty well. I heard her humming to herself from the other room, seemingly content with whatever she was copying at the moment. But then, there was silence – and as every parent knows, silence is not a good thing. Not ever. Not in any capacity. Not even when all sharp objects have been removed from their reach.
But it was SO NICE TO BE IN THE OTHER ROOM!!!! So I stayed there. And I hid.
The peace lasted for maybe a few more minutes before I heard thundering footsteps running down the hall, followed by a, “MOMMY!!!! I MADE A MISTAKE!!!” that was loud enough to be heard across town.
Confident that “whatever it is, we can fix it!” I looked down at the piece of paper that my daughter was holding.
And I saw… this.
Now you must note that I did edit the above to black out the name in case that person one day ends up reading this post, but I promise to you that the rest of this image is completely unaltered and totally authentic.
In her defense, she was TRYING to write the word “craft,” but they do say that Freudian slips run deep, so maybe I should start giving her credit for being wiser than her years to have already figured out that this was, indeed, what she had actually received…
Needless to say, a redo was in order.