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When your child brings home something Fugly

I so wanted to be the mom who is able to celebrate everything my kids do, to see the beauty in their attempts, to set up shrines to their endeavors. But I’m not. I’ve gotten over it, so you should too – let’s get that out of the way right now so that I don’t have to roll my eyes at any comments about how everything a child does is a gift.

Because sometimes what kids do is produce butt ugly art.

Fiona's bowl

I have to assume that some day Fiona will stumble upon this entry and be deeply hurt by her mother calling her brown, lopsided bowl butt ugly, but truth is truth, and when her kid brings home a papier mache horse that looks like it was spawned inside of a nuclear cooling tower, she’ll understand. Still, apologies Fiona. Feel free to get back at me on your own blog by telling people something embarrassing about me – you’ve got plenty to choose from.

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