The kids’ playroom looks like an elephant shat paper and textas, so it’s clean out time. I’m one of those tragic parents who keeps every scrap of paper my children have ever breathed on, so I have been thorough in my sorting the wheat from the chaff.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is wheat.
When I eventually stop laughing, I’ll need your help in exactly how to broach this topic with my seven-year-old. Especially the issue of ‘coping with disappointment’, if that’s the proportions she’s expecting in her future relationships.
Update: I asked her what it meant, and she said, “GOD, MUM, IT’S NOT LIKE I CAN REMEMBER EVERY SINGLE THING I DRAW.”