Confession Time


If you’ll bear with me, I have a confession to make.

You know those paintings and pictures the kids bring home which fill the house and clutter the walls? I’ve never really seen the attraction.Β I only ever see mess. I mean I do and say the right things, but I’m really just wondering how long before I can sneak it into the bin behind their blessed little backs.

Miss4 invited the whole family to her new pre-prep centre this week – Alma Street. She was super excited because as far as she’s concerned it is the most awesome place in the world and everyone will love it.

“Daddy’s coming?” she asked her mum, and after Tracey confirmed I would be there Miss4 rattled off the names of each of her siblings, looking for assurances they were coming too. Unfortunately, we hit a snag when we got to Master22 and Miss19, and Tracey had to explain they wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Are they dead?” asked Miss4.

“No! Of course not!” said Tracey, a little shocked.

Clearly Miss4 thought this is the only acceptable excuse for not showing up to her special day. “Well, why can’t they come to Alma Street?” she demanded.

“Don’t be silly,” said Tracey. “You know they live in other towns.”

To be honest, when I finished work I kind of wished I lived in another town too so I could have gotten out of it. I was tired and grumpy and just wanted to go home, take my uniform off and change into a comfortable pair of beers.

But that’s not the bit I want to confess, that’s just normal end of day stuff.

I usually embarrass myself a little at these sorts of events by either saying or doing something dumb. It’s just my way.

Mind you, I was doing pretty good this time. I’d set myself up with Miss4 and Miss6 at a table where you could draw a picture and then colour it in with paint. It was all going swimmingly – I’d made several masterpieces – when suddenly I looked up and, in a room full of adults and their kids, realized I was basically sitting by myself, on a tiny kiddy chair at a tiny kiddy table, painting. My kids had wandered off and left me!

“Kids,” I hissed when I spotted them slinking off towards the door to play outside. “Come back here. Don’t leave me by myself.”Β 

But they were gone and I had a decision to make – get up and follow them or finish my picture. Let’s just say I’m no quitter.

But that’s not the bit I’m here to confess either.

So we brought all our (my) paintings home and strung them up along the wire in the kitchen, just as we always do with daycare/pre-prep/prep/school art. And then this morning my parents came over for a special breakfast because my dad turned 73 today…

…and I gave him a picture I drew and painted which had ‘daddy’ written on it.

And I have to confess (this is it) I don’t know who enjoyed it more, me or him.

Even though it was just a bit of fun for a laugh, I think I’ll be a little more understanding when the kids present me with their next masterpiece and a little less keen to relegate it to the bin.


Happy Birthday, Grandad! xxx Love you.

πŸ™‚ please shareΒ πŸ™‚

β€œRaising a family on little more than laughs.”



  • I throw the kids paintings out without mercy ( I do keep the odd one) but the kids dont mind… because I make a huge deal about photographing them so they last forever…. the kids all seem to think it is better than keeping the real thing. Oh and just so you dont feel alone, I have been found in similar circumstances, usually with playdough… lol.

  • Shared… and just about to read the article out loud to hubby…. and I have just noticed …. i* if you’ll BEAR with me” !!
    (Losing my ‘touch”!) Cheers! G

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