Sunny is in preschool and at the end of the week, she will come home with all of her art projects that she’s worked on throughout the week. Sometimes they are truly interesting and cool but other times, she’ll bring a toilet paper roll (the brown holder part that I just realized has no name) with two pieces on either side and she’ll say, “Look, Mommy, it’s a plane.” Also, side note: quite often she’ll bring home a gorgeous painting that there is no way she made. Sorry, it’s 1000% percent Eric, the art teacher.
Please keep in mind that Sunny has been in pre-school for four years. That’s a lot of art work. At some point, I have to weed out the good and the bad and throw out the stuff that will just become clutter in my car and in my house. Obviously, it is extremely important that I am supportive of Sunny’s artwork and imagination, so every time she brings something home, I tell her how amazing it is. I make a huge deal about what a great job she did at school that week and tell her she’s the most amazing artist I have ever seen.
Towards the end of every week, when my car starts resembling a homeless person’s car, I gather up all of Sunny’s artwork, set aside the good art and secretly take the remainder of her (not that good) art pile and throw it in the trash. The last few times I’ve asked Sunny to throw something out in the trash, she totally caught me. She’ll say, “Mommy! How did my art end up in the trash?”
And of course my response is always, “I am furious! Our housekeeper must have done this! I love all of your art and I would never throw it out.”
Then I proceed to tape up toilet rolls, popsicle sticks and cotton balls all over my kitchen. There’s nothing sweeter than the proud look on Sunny’s face as she sees me do this.