Can I get a hallelujah?!
I almost bought no valentines, because I almost forgot entirely. Poor neglected third child.
After apologizing profusely, I told him that I'd take him after school to pick some out. OR, I could grab some while I was out running errands.
"You just get some. I don't care what they look like."
Mmmkay.
At Target, my choices were weird Pizza valentines, Frozen, Superheroes, Ninja Turtles or Mustaches. I chose the mustaches. He's in 4th grade after all. And although he doesn't care about Valentines, a certain amount of street cred would be sacrificed if I came home with Superheroes or even the weird pizza ones. Certainly, considering his lack of enthusiasm (which was really more like throwing his head back and groaning "uggggghhhhhhh" when I told him he needed valentines), I was not about to buy anything that said "Be Mine!" or "You're the cheese to my pepperoni!" So mustache tattoos it is.
"You need to do these. Tonight. And you need to decorate a box."
"Whaaaaaaaaat? Why do I need to do them tonight? Ugh. This is so STUPID. And what's the box for?"
I leveled my "are you kidding me" gaze at him and ignored his last question. Or all the questions. "Because the party is tomorrow."
"Uggggggggggghhhhhh. This is so STUPID."
"Yep, you said that. Now get busy." And I left him to his own devices. Poor neglected third child.
To his credit, he did what I asked. The box was decorated with red foil wrapping paper slapped together with some camouflage duct tape. Sweet. Apparently, perforated paper is a puzzle, because the mustache tattoos were, well, rustic looking. The protective film kept falling off and some of the valentines were torn. But hey, they were done and I didn't have to get involved. #canigetahallelujah
Poor neglected third child.
This morning, I opened the box to inspect the state of his valentines. They were all signed with his name, but none of them was addressed.
"T, you have to write your classmates' names on them!"
"Why? This will make the whole process faster. Just drop it in and not have to sort all the names out."
Although he has a point, I am a mom and I am a girl who remembers valentines and the consideration that went into who got each one. "But people like to see their names. They like to feel like you took the time to personalize each and every one."
He leveled his "are you kidding me" look at me and announced that no, he wasn't going to do that. "Besides, this is all so STUPID." Yes, you made that clear, son.
4th grade mom friends, if you are reading this, then chances are you have seen the sorry excuse for a valentine your child received from my son. My apologies. He is a poor neglected third child and I am a tired mother who chose not to fight this particular battle. I hope you understand and know that, in the future, should you find this happening to you, I will not judge. I've got your back.
Happy "ugggggghhhh, this is so STUPID" Valentine's day.
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