Glitter is my nemesis. I hate it. It’s designed by the devil himself to thwart any attempts to clean it up, and it’s sparkly and tempting to small children. The very first time I figured out that the then-infant Engineer knew how to unscrew bottle lids was at the craft store. In the glitter aisle. He grabbed a HUGE tube of glitter and went “ooooh” and “ahhh!” and by the time I was able to grab it back, the lid was off, and the glitter …. everywhere!
I banned it. I hate it. My kids love it.
“Mommy, those magnets look soooo cool! I want to make those for our project!”
There went my resolve.
By the way, why does the county fair even HAVE a category for refrigerator magnets? Seriously, what 80’s world do they live in, populated by flower samples, pies, and canned goods? The Engineer loved all the ribbons he won last year and he wants to enter every possible category for his age range this year. We don’t do cows or bunnies or 4-H, so we’re stuck in the craft and art section, pouring over our options. Refrigerator magnets? Check!
I have to admit, these magnets do look really cool. This picture doesn’t look great – that’s what happens when you snap a pic at 11 p.m. at night, exhausted from dealing with kids and caterpillars and determined to write a post anyway. I’m stubborn that way.
They’re sparkly. They’re rounded glass for depth and clarity. And best of all – the glitter is securely glued down.
Getting to that point was a bit messy, but hey, he loved it so much that he stuck with it and powered through the entire bag of pebbles. Glitter! Glue! Mommy time! (young ones were banned after the Destroyer wanted to play in the glitter and the Princess got E600 glue all over her hands.)
It’s crazy the things we do for our kids, right? We stand strong and say no way! and then the little darlings give us that quivering lip and puppy eyes and we crumble. Sometimes. I do have my limits. But in the grand scheme of things, glitter is a temporary annoyance. It’s irritating, but it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not worth disappointing my kid over something he’s so excited about.
I hope that when he’s older, his childhood memories of us will be all the “yes” instead of the “no’s.” Yes, you can have that glitter for a project. Yes, you can go to railroad tracks with your dad and watch trains. Yes, you can stay home from T-ball even though we paid for it already. Yes, because we love you.
Living with 2e kids means there are a lot of “no’s” around here. No, you can’t use the chair as a trampoline. No, you can’t spin your baby brother around in my desk chair. No, you CANNOT go riding away on your bike around the neighborhood without a parent! Don’t you dare throw things at your sister!
If I had a dollar for every time I have to say no, I could pay for therapy without a second’s thought.
Eh, who am I kidding? When the kids are older, they’ll be in therapy detailing just how much we screwed up their lives. I know this. But I also know they’ll be alive – and that’s the whole point of the “no’s.” Think I’m joking? I didn’t post about the Princess taking a wall corner to the face because we’re still worried she might lose her teeth. It’s a prime example of when a parent (the other parent – the one who wasn’t even present when I picked up my screaming, bloody kid and ran to the ER with her) SHOULD have stepped in and said “NO! We don’t push other people!”
I’ll take alive and traumatized over the alternative any day.
I’ll take glittery and happy over sad and clean any day too. Just please kiddo, invent a wonderful new contraption that slurps the glitter out of my carpet.