When I was a kid, my folks never put anything on the refrigerator. Nothing. Not one thing. Not my perfect grade cards (pre-Freshman year, obviously), not my mountains of awards and certificates, not the number to poison control, not nothing. Well, that’s not fair. When I was about 14, my evil father (love you, Daddy) put up a chore chart that was supposed to be signed off by someone else after a task was completed. Usually my brother and I performed the work in earnest. Unfortunately Connie, who lived with us at the time with her husband/our cousin, routinely refused to sign off. The sign-off chore chart was a disaster, was therefore short lived, and came down revealing a bare refrigerator door once again. Soon after, Connie moved out, left my cousin, and became a lesbian.
I swore that when I had kids, my refrigerator would be enveloped by the pure awesome. Here’s a sample of the 9 YO’s work from last school year. It’s a Frank.
The 7 YO gave up the Anti-Rebecca club and created this adorable portrait of me.
And of course we have a ton of magnets to hold everything up. This is one of my favorites. The photo is crappy, so I’ll just tell you it’s a Loteria card of La Corona – because I’m the queen and you know it.
I’ve made a new addition to my refrigerator door. This one feeds my ego mostest. Denveater posted a FB status update for all to see. And of course by “all” I mean the funnest, smartest, hippest kids on the FB playground, desperate for a piece of her and unaware of my existance. Denveater has held an OSCAR people!
Ruth, I’m SO going to go food commando on you soon for this little boost. The rest of you, please don’t think that just because you were beaten to the punch that you can’t still publically exclaim my prettiness. Like me, my ego is always hungry.