One man’s plea to crafty mums everywhere: Just stop it.
I got home after midnight from a business trip last night. That’s probably why I didn’t notice it until the morning. A gift bag. Alone. On the kitchen table.
Normally, getting my kids to the breakfast table is like trying to coax a couple of cats into a swimming pool. As soon as they wake up, they hide under blankets on the couch and make strange noises. But this morning was a different story.
Audrey came out of her bedroom, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and went right to the table. She sat in front of the bag with a smile on her face.
“What’s the bag for?” I asked.
“We got it for our end-of-year party yesterday.” She reached into the bag.
“What did you get?”
She started pulling out different items and commenting.
“Crackers… Some cookies… Ooooooh! Gummy worms! And a moustache!”
“Cool!”
The morning went on as usual. We finally made it out the door and walked to school as a family unit.
When Gabby and I got back home, I tidied up the breakfast mess before getting to work. When I reached down to pick up all of the things that Audrey had removed from her bag, I did a double take.
Every single item was accessorised. Little notes. Ribbons. Sayings. Like a professional stylist had just prepped them for the red carpet at some weird awards ceremony for pre-packaged snacks.
Follow me on this one. I truly appreciate that people have taken so much time to make sure my child felt important yesterday. Craftiness is a gift. One I do not possess. I am awestruck by the flawless execution of cuteness on these snacks.