"I hope you don't mind, the aluminum foil painting is in the garbage."
Having a toddler is basically like being a codependent hoarder. The amount of worthless shit that these things accrue, combined with your own exhausted apathy, eventually make every corner of your house a fucking Jenga Game where the loser gets crushed under the weight of Matchbox Cars and Dum Dum wrappers. There is not a table in our house that doesn't look covered in Nickelodeon barf, "treasures" and half-eaten granola bars (EAT MORE THAN CHOCOLATE CHIPS, DICK!).
Occasionally, either Shannon or I get a miraculous 43rd wind and muster the energy to get 5-10 pieces of the hoard into the trash can before collapsing in tears 6 feet shy of the bed. It was on one of those occasions where Shannon crossed over from caring about each piece of our son's "art" as a memento and into the very real realization that our floor is covered in fucking glitter. Apparently, when you're two, the entire conceptualization of art is limited to gluing glitter on to various surfaces. Construction paper? White paper? Paper Plates? STYROFOAM plates? All of these are perfect media for our little Pollack to squirt glue and dump entirely too much glitter on.
And those fuckers at the daycare send that shit home EVERY DAY!!! The Christmas ornament was nice, I admit. The Valentine's Day "card" was cute. And I'm sure Shannon will melt for the Mother's Day glitter-fuck they send home. But this shit never ends. From where I sit at THIS MOMENT I can count no fewer than 4 pieces of glitter art.
So, no babe. I don't mind. Throw that out. We'll be getting another very soon, I'm sure.