This morning at our house:
Me: Time to wake up, G.
Me: I know it's hard, but you have to get ready for school.
Me: Come on, little princess. Wake up.
G: Nooooo ... I'm too sleepy ...
Me: When you're dressed, you can go and see your Valentine surprises in the other room.
G (eyes flying open): Help me up!
I may have mentioned this before, but I am seriously crafts-impaired. It's a wonder I didn't flunk paste and scissors in kindergarten. A few months ago, I painted some wooden letters to spell G's name out on the wall over her bed, and I was so proud of this tiny accomplishment that you would have thought I'd painted the Sistine Chapel. Everyone who has seen the room since has had to listen to me explain that I painted those letters! Me! Painted! I could have bought them at Pottery Barn Kids, but I painted them myself, and they look OK!
Naturally, with this background, I was blessed with a kid who inherited my mother's super-crafty genes and loves to glue, to color ... and to make her own Valentines. Last year I got around this by buying blank note cards and letting her decorate them with stickers, but this year I was planning to get the cheap-and-easy box of preprinted kid Valentines and call it good. When I went to the store last night, though, they were out of everything but designs I knew G would hate, so we improvised. I cut out 19 red construction-paper hearts, G stuck the ubiquitous Valentine stickers all over them and wrote "From G___," and then we taped a pink sucker to each one. She was pleased with the results, although it was a bit disappointing that she used the best stickers in the pack for the boy she likes and then didn't get a return Valentine from him. (How dare an eight-year-old punk break my little girl's heart?!) I should probably buy some half-price stickers tomorrow in preparation for next year.