Every year on Mother’s Day, I have the worst gift. It all started back in second grade…..DUN DUN DUN! I glued jolly ranchers to construction paper in the shape of a heart.Which she couldn’t eat because it was so covered in glue… So it just sat there… taped to the wall… collecting dust. Until eventually……..I stole all of the jolly ranchers. One by one.
Meanwhile, my sister (the kind with the neat handwriting that colors in the lines) gave her a stack of handmade coupons promising hour long foot massages. Really sis?!?!?! You gotta out do me by that much???
Then in third grade, I painted a terracotta pot for her to plant flowers in. It was a mess! I am not the most artistic girl around and crafts aren’t really my thing. I don’t remember her face when I handed it to her because I made sure not to look.
Ah yes. Then there was fourth grade. My class made knee pots for the mothers and mine was the most misshapen disaster that was ever placed on this earth. Seriously. Think of the ugliest possible clay pot made by a fourth grader you’ve ever seen. No, really. Take a minute to think about this.
It was 10 times worse than that.
