Amidst my preparations for Operation Daddy (aka Daddy-Works-Late-Let’s-Make-Him-Some-Stuff-for-Father’s-Day), I have my toddler busily working at the dining room table in a brilliant, elaborate plan to allow her to color her own, personal Father’s Day card to her heart’s content. While she sat, busily and dutifully coloring her Dora card for him, I sat, giggling maniacally at the fact that I suddenly had time to blog, return some emails, tinker with my blog a bit. Brilliant plan, I said to myself as I patted my own self on the back.
Until it got very, very quiet.
Apparently, I have wicked, magical, ninja-like skills when it comes to inflicting insta-sleep on my kids, because my children. fall. asleep. anywhere. And my toddler? Fell asleep getting down from the chair when she was finished coloring.
I have skills, my friends. Beware of my powers!
{ahem}
So I place my adorable sleeping toddler to bed, clothes-on-and-all, and proceed to allow the older children to concoct some homemade cards and the like for my husband-type-person. Only, their version of this game goes something along the lines of, wasting a lot of construction paper making paper airplanes and drawing pictures of daddy and his soldier buddies killing aliens and dinosaurs attacking the Earth, and little hearts and origami shapes from my daughter with big, puffy hearts that proclaim her love of all things Jonas Brothers.
“Uh, bath time kids! Great job! Daddy will love all that blood oozing from the Dinosaur, and how much you adore Joe Jonas!”
(Am thinking I should’ve gotten alcohol for him instead, or something.)
It’s about this time, when all is seemingly quiet (read: kids are watching a movie) when it’s now my turn for craft-like fun. I get to wrap his presents and break out my card to sign and write gushy stuff in (except my big, puffy hearts are for him. And maybe Brendan Fraser). I already have scissors and tape out, because of the kids and their strange beautiful projects for hubby. I realize in order to wrap, I’m going to need wrapping paper.
And then it hits me. I don’t know if I have any paper other than Christmas paper. {smacks forehead}
So…. hubby will just have to live with this, along with a little ingenuity from his wife when the small present didn’t fit the small paper she wrapped it in:
Yes, friends, not only is it Santa Claus wrapping paper, but I MacGyver’ed some construction paper on in there to fill the gaps, too, so I didn’t have to cut another honkin’ piece of paper for the teeny gift.
In recap:
- My children fall asleep anywhere.
- My older children are strange card creators.
- Mom is a dumbass and had to not only wrap Father’s Day gifts in Santa-paper, but with construction paper filling, too.
Any questions?
(Oh! And Happy Father’s Day to all you dad’s out there. And to my adorable husband, too. Aren’t you lucky to have us, honey?)
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