My daughter’s Pre-K class tried to kill me. True story.
We have been fighting the stomach bug from hell that made it’s rounds around my family not once, but twice this week. Hell hath no fury like a two year with uncontrollable projectile body functions. Obviously, as I’m here, we lived through the assassination attempt.
I was determined that I was going to get some crafting done this weekend. Especially after the last pleading love note my craft table sent me from the garage, where the Christmas tree had banished it a moon’s turn ago. I retrieved the craft table, well actually, Christian did, because rather weighty it is. I retrieved the Copics, the Grand Caliber and all the other space taking goodies and set them up.
I stashed the two year old in for a nap, confident that it was ok to finally let her have sheets on her bed again. I looked at the new stamps that the DT is working on. I drooled over one or two… and then there was a knock at the door. It was the four year old would be assassin, code name: Shiloh.
Apparently, Shiloh’s “Star Poster” (you guessed it, a poster of which she is indeed the star), is due this week, and can we please do it now before I go to work in the morning?
I can say this for myself… I still got to play with my Nestabilities and my patterned paper… and how on earth could anyone say no to a child who is rocking a hat like that?
In case you couldn’t see the fine details…
Being an Artist
Corndogs and Tacos
The number 100
… and that is why I did not craft today, and am happy about it.
By the way, GO GIANTS! On to beat SF next weekend!