The Battle of the Craft Project
My son is two weeks into kindergarten and we’ve gotten his first assignment. Naturally, it’s a fun craft project that mom, dad, and child can all enjoy.
So naturally, it was a fucking nightmare.
Backtracking for a second: I love Lucas’ teacher. She rocks. She’s no nonsense. She’s firm but fun and she gets the littles. She’s not forcing homework down our throats but is also encouraging home activities and strong parental involvement. So, yay! Win for us.
She sent home a note with parents last week letting us know that we’d be helping our wee ones with making their book box, a shoebox they’d decorate and show to the class. It’s a place to store their homemade books that they’ll create throughout the year. Cute.
We grabbed a box and literally every paper, pen, marker, crayon, colored pencil, cloth, ribbon, button, piece of lint, balloon, feather, sticker, paint, straw, errant Cheerio, yarn, loom, and kitchen table we could find. We displayed it all on the, you know, kitchen table and turned on some tunes to get our son motivated.
We were like the parental equivalent of the creepy old Six Flags dancing man.
Us: Luuuucas! Check it out! All these fun crafts? Do you believe it? Let’s decorate your book box for school!
Lucas: I’m gonna go play with my fans.
Us: Noooooo! Forget the fans. Look at all this cool stuff! Wanna write your name on the box? You can…you know…write your name on it? And put some stickers….on….it???
Lucas: Ummm…no, I want the fans.
Us, getting frustrated: Lucas! This is for class. Your teacher wants everyone to make a book box. You don’t want yours to be blank. Now let’s try something! Some…stickers? Or how about…you know…this OTHER sticker?
Lucas turns on and off the chandelier light above the kitchen table.
Us: Come on, buddy. This is fun! Right? This is totally fun! Like…crafts! Crafting! It’s…great! Let’s do this!
Lucas picks up a marker, lazily writes “Lucas,” and walks away.
I was so angry with my son in that moment that I wanted to shame him. Shame him for not wanting to participate in something FUN like CRAFTS and instead go play with something he actually enjoys like (for some God forsaken reason) setting up a series of fans to blast air at each other and make curtains move. But then I realized something:
I fucking hate crafts.
My dislike of crafting is severe. Construction paper makes me weep. Glue sticks are just cylindrical booger canes. Glitter might be the work of the devil. And my son just might share my total disregard for scrapbooking, knitting, or chalkboard signs wrapped in burlap sold on Etsy.
God I love that kid.
The Olive Gal
green of skin, black of heart
