The Valentine's Miracle. A.K.A. Not really a Valentine's miracle at all.
Thalia of course was effusive about Valentine's Day, sharing every detail, making me read every card twice out loud, and reveling in every heart-shaped lollipop and mini pink-wrapped KitKat in her little treat bag. Sage just sort of shrugged and told me that "Gwace made me a cawd."
"Really?" I asked. "No one else handed out cards in your whole class? I'm so surprised."
"Gwace did." She said again in that three year-old voice you want to bottle and sell for a million dollars a mililieter. "A weawwy weawwy nice one."
I have to admit, I was feeling a little smug.
For the first time in history, I did something right. I was the mom who spent all weekend supervising the creation of 8 million semi-handmade cards. I helped the girls cut out the heart shapes and the construction paper, and wield the glue stick and the Crayolas. I helped Sage write the four letters of her name on the back of the cards. I dictated the spelling of Thalia's classmates' names. I remembered the teachers and the beloved school security guard. And I kept the encouragement up even when they ran out of steam after, oh...say the third card.
Meanwhile, the other moms blew it off?
I imagined them all sooooo very impressed with me. Wow, Sage's mom finally got her shit together for a change. And what adorable cards! Who knew she had it in her!
It was hard to believe, of course, but miracles do happen. Even in Brooklyn.
This morning, as we cleaned up the kitchen from last night's dinner (zomg black truffled risotto) I came across a sweet little pile of Valentine's Day cards, each one addressed to Sage.
"Sagey!" I called to her. "You did get cards from all your friends..."
And then I looked right next to the pile--
There, untouched, was a little plastic baggie full of Sage's own handmade Valentine's Day cards that she had hauled all the way to school. And then, all the way home again.
[Cards by the black apple and bunnycakes, via cool mom picks.
Celebrating Valentines Day again tomorrow (sigh) via my 3 year-old.]