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HUMOR
A Freeloader Ruined My Face
I regret getting crafty with her
The local library my two-year-old daughter and I attend occasionally when all our regular cocktail bars are closed, is a soccer mom’s paradise.
The bright paint, lively displays, and the “I volunteer at six frog hospitals” vibe that the librarian gives make for a not-so-great time. The minivans with sparkly stickered windows roll up fifteen minutes early to the library’s toddler time, vomiting enthusiasm and smiles.
Every month, the library has a competition for children. Something bookish or crafty, and the winner’s work is displayed in the entrance as a reminder to the rest of us that we are worthless.
Since we don’t attend the library regularly, I have a great nonparticipating streak, however, my daughter felt that it was time to crush my spirit. The competition prize of stickers and a Boeing 747 was apparently too much to pass up.
This month’s competition demanded a family portrait made from crafts with no use of photographs.
Which is a blessing. Our selfies are a blurred mess of eyeballs and teeth.
When I visited the library under duress a few days ago, many family portraits were already sitting proudly on top of the bookcases.
There were beautifully colored drawings, a delicate clay family sitting in their garden, papier-mache figures perfectly painted, faces cleverly created out of sequins, taxidermy cats and grandpas, and hand-carved wooden children climbing trees made out of wax, placed next to working sprinklers that dispersed dolphin tears.
And I didn’t even kick them over.
I tried to steer my daughter away but she has reached an annoying stage where she actually understands what’s happening.
It’s a dark time for me.
Once we arrived home, my daughter said, “Mommy and me liby pictures. Make. Let’s make Mommy.”
I looked into her wide, hopeful eyes and turned my back, pretending not to know her. But she complained. A lot. So I caved and collected our craft box.
It’s more envelope than box, and its contents are mainly tissues and dog hair.
