Love my little guy.
Little guy loves preschool.
Gotta love preschool. (actually, it’s awesome)
Gotta love the preschool crafts.
I would say ‘you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout.’ but you don’t unless your kids go to Great Beginnings. Those ladies are da bomb.
For Mother’s Day, I got this pin:
My 3 1/2 year old son, well, he made it for me. (beams with motherly pride) (which is not a sin, btw…) (no really, he’s awesome) (can’t you see?)
Enough with the parentheticals, moron.
Right now they’re doing a craft involving white pillowcases. Filled with sticks of frozen butter.
No, wait. That’s me.
When I say ‘right now they’re doing a craft’, interpret loosely, as in “the rest of the class did, but Mommy didn’t check both email accounts so she didn’t know she needed to send a pillowcase to school with me and now has no time to procure one before tomorrow”.
I wrack my brain for fun some days. Everything needs a good wracking from time to time. Today’s wracking had purpose. Do I have a white pillowcase? If no, how can I get a white pillowcase? I have no white pillowcase. I suck as a cool mom. Back to the white pillowcase. Can I make the white pillowcase? With what could I make this white pillowcase? O, white pillowcase, how thou dost cause me to tap into my creative nature! O, creative nature, how thou dost save me money and humiliation!
Unless of course, the pillowcase is to be a particular make and model and thread-count.
Otherwise, young grasshopper, I rule. I am the bomb-diggity. The boom-dynamite. And all that jazz.
Took about 30 minutes, what with all the straight lines and such.
And I ❤ my serger. Thanks, Mom & Pop!
The piece of white material I managed to dig up was a few inches too short, but pillowcases are known for having a wide band at the top, and as far as I’m aware, there’s no law that stipulates that white pillowcases can’t have a 6″ bright blue band at the end.
Maybe it’ll get Levi kicked out of preschool. Parenting fail. I’m sure it won’t be the last on my account…
But at least it’ll match his other bedding. Since I rule, and all.
And coördination is close to godliness.
So are finished seams.
And I go mad for top-stitching, dah-ling!
All so my son can deface the finished product in the adorable, artistic manner which only a toddler son with my genetics could possibly achieve.
You go, kid!