“Frank said his Mom is bringing in gourmet cookies. Made at home,” Tommy added pointedly.
“Frank is probably lying out of his ass..er, butt,” I corrected. Gourmet cookies indeed. At a children’s Valentine’s Day party? If that was true, what a show off. And could Tommy bring home one so I could try it?
“Why don’t you make cookies at home?” Tommy wondered as he scribbled out his name on the Valentine.
“Trust me, Tommy, it’s better that I don’t,” I replied. I’m not the worst cook in the world but I have dropped an eggshell in the batter many times. And once I accidentally used olive oil instead of vegetable. “Hey, make sure you write neat.” Tommy’s penmanship was beginning to look like chicken scratch.
“I’m tired of doing this,” Tommy moaned. “My fingers hurt.” He curled and uncurled his fingers dramatically.
“Hey, imagine how I feel when I write all those thank you cards after Christmas. You’re almost done,” I reminded him.
Tommy scowled as he picked up his pen. “I don’t like this.”
I had to listen to him whine. It was not pleasant. All he had to do was write names. Imagine if he had to scrub all three toilets in the home like I had to do that morning.
Finally, Tommy finished. He had picked out Valentine’s that came with lollipops which will annoy the health nut mothers. They’re probably having their children pass out organic Valentine’s with a carrot stuck on it or something.
“Are we making my box?” Tommy asked.
He had to make his own Valentine’s Day box and this frightened me at first. In the past, all he’s had was a plastic bag for the Valentine’s. I am not crafty in the least and yes, I admit that I thought I’d have to hammer a box together.
Then someone suggested a shoe box.
A shoe box! Of course. Duh.
So Tommy made this:
Natalie, on the other hand, didn’t have to make her own box.
But she did have to bring in a healthy snack.
I really hope her class isn’t one of those who don’t allow junk food. I don’t think I’d let her attend a school where cupcakes weren’t allowed. That just seems cruel.
Anyway, I got her a platter of already cut up vegetables because have I mentioned that I suck at cutting things?
They got this for Valentine’s Day:
And yes, Tom sent me a romantic card where he basically said that I rocked, that he was glad to be married to me even though I’m odd, and oh, could I please stop shopping at Target so much?
Tomorrow I’m going out and getting 50% off chocolates. No sense paying full price.
Tom should be proud.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
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