Title: Cleats on kitchen floor
Artist: 11 year old boy
Title: Towel on Floor
Artist: Apparently No One (as in "I did hang up my towel, so did I and so did I.")
Title: Helmet under dining room table
Artist: 7 year old biker
And last but not least, since I think fruit seems to be popular among still life photographers, I thought I would bring you the Blue Ribbon Winner:
Title: Apples in Bowl: that no one will want to eat due to proximity of athletic supporter
Artist: Could be anyone of them
At the outset of this post, let me say that I recognize that these are First World Problems. I am aware that there is heartache and tragedy all around me and I am grateful that these are the frustrations that I faced today and yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. I also realized last week after the not doing what I want to do but doing what I hate to do debacle that I need a new plan. I'm tired of my voice and it is apparent that my people are not hearing me anyway.
So, the lovely and talented Mrs. C. invited me over for a BLT last week and as we were eating and chatting she suddenly jumped up with glee, saying that she almost forgot that she had something for me that I HAD to have. I thought maybe there might be some B or L or T in my teeth, but she didn't bring me toothpicks. She ran upstairs and came back with this:
And you think that this is either a red ball or the flag of Japan, but you would be WRONG! Stay with me because this is the genius parenting idea of the lovely and talented Mrs. C. (or maybe it's not, but it's all I've got right now)
Mrs. C. is a long time teacher. She sometimes is in the classroom for long stretches and sometimes she subs here and there with all different kinds of kiddos in all different kinds of grades. Also, she won Teacher of the Century one year. (Ok, that's me using something like dramatic license, but she did win a teaching award of some kind not long ago.) She says that when she was having trouble keeping her students' attention or was finding that she was constantly repeating herself, she would do something dramatic like put on Groucho Marx glasses with a mustache or something similar and go on about her lesson. Mrs. C. knew that I was tiring of the Naggy McNagerson show, so she gave me this little present. Now, this is how I plan to approach reminding my kids about homework and cleats in the garage and all of the other things on the list: I'm mixing it up, baby!
PS. Dear Mrs. C., Please don't tell my kids this because I'm always crowing about how we wouldn't lose things if we went with that "a place for everything and everything in its place" theory, but, well, it's been a few days since this photo was taken and I can't find my clown nose. It's lost. I've looked everywhere. I'm pretty sure you had a 4-pack. Could you spare one more nose, please? I'm trying for consistency here. Thanks.
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