Then I became a mommy. Welcome to reality, baby. My children have no interest in cleaning up toys or replacing books in the bookcase. Trash isn't so much trash as 1) possibly something for a future art project (yeah, right) or 2) something to kick around until it is shredded into about eighteen tiny pieces of trash.
Today, Bear didn't have school. Why? Because it is December 2, of course. It's a holiday, right? No, I couldn't figure it out either, but, no school. I told him yesterday, as we watched the snow, that we would make paper snowflakes. He kept getting confused and asked when we were going to make paper out of snow. How disappointing that I could not defy the laws of physics and chemistry and do just that.
So the time came this morning that I decided to round up the boys and make snowflakes. This was shortly after they began beating one another with kitchen implements in their pretend bakery. Nobody likes an aggressive baker. So, I fetched the paper, cut it into squares, sat the boys down and showed them how to fold the paper. They watched obediently and began to wad the paper into little balls. That voice in the back of my head said to me, "Um, Buff, these are not kindergartners. These are your boys, and they are two and a half & four and a half years old." Oh, yeah! I gave Bear my folded sheet and told him to hold it. Folded another sheet for myself, gave Bear the little kid safety scissors, picked up my scissors and began to show Bear how to cut the paper. I opened up the snowflake and
I may be blonde, but I am not stupid. One thing I did retain from college and that Early Childhood degree is that you don't give scissors to a two year old. I think they teach that on the first day. So, Bug was pissed. I was trying to involve him by letting him show me where to cut. He wasn't going for it. When I unfolded the one he "helped" with and handed it to him, he grabbed it, ripped it up, and reached for Bear's snowflake. I looked at the clock and decided it was nearly naptime and perhaps this activity was more appropriate for just Bear and Mommy.
Once Bug was asleep and Bear had a chance to "rest" for a few minutes, we proceeded with the snow storm. I got more paper. I got some of the "silly scissors." We cut angles. We cut curves. We cut big pieces and small pieces and tiny pieces. Bear had fun cutting, although some of his snowflakes looked more like Rorschach tests.
I thought we might hang our creations on the front picture window, to lend a bit of holiday cheer to our as yet undecorated home. I gathered my snowflakes and took them into the front room, telling Bear to do the same. I kicked the dogs off the couch, again, and pulled the drapes back. I called for Bear and then went to see just what it was he was doing. He said he was getting "alla my snowflakes, Mommy!" And by "alla," he meant every scrap of paper that had been cut this afternoon.
Each tiny little shred was a snowflake. If I suggested that surely we could throw this one away since it (to the untrained eye, of course) was just an end piece, he would inform me that this one was in fact, his very favorite of all the snowflakes and as such should be given a place of honor among the snowflake display in the Candyland window. *sigh* Finally I put my foot down, (gently) and said that we could not possibly hang all of the "tiny" snowflakes, as they would impede our view of the street and how would we ever indulge our twice daily habit of watching SugarPlum walk to and from school if the front window was completely covered in tiny (though precious, I must now concede) snowflakes? "But I wanted Gray Gray and Gram to see all of them when they come for Christmas**" BINGO!! What a great idea. We are now sending the "tiny snowflakes" special delivery to Gray Gray and Gram from SugarBear to decorate THEIR house for the holiday season.
As far as he knows anyway.
**This must be read with the most pitiful sadness, meant to break a Mommy's heart.
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