If you’re a parent who cherishes every crayon stroke your child creates, proudly displaying their masterpieces all over social media, you might want to hit pause here—you won’t identify with my story.
“What happened to my drawing from school?” my curious four-year-old, Lily, asked with wide, innocent eyes, searching for her latest artistic creation. Instantly, dread washed over me as I glanced into the trash can, only to be greeted by a mountain of discarded food atop her artwork—my previous salvage attempts had failed yet again.
My mind raced: who could I pin this on? My partner, Jake, was off at work, leaving me without my usual scapegoat. I had already used the classic “mysteriously vanished” excuse yesterday, so I had to think fast.
How to answer her genuine question without shattering her dreams or sending her into a lifetime of therapy over her unappreciative mother?
I admit it, I felt a little wicked. I was simply tired of pretending that every doodle and scribble was a brilliant work of art. I adore her creativity, but let’s be real—she’s four. Most of her creations resemble a chaotic mess and, well, are better suited for the bin.
So, I took a deep breath and decided to be honest. “I threw it away,” I stated plainly.
There it was. The truth, laid bare. I searched her face for tears, hoping she still loved me despite my apparent lack of appreciation for her “art.” Could I retract my confession, claim it had been left in the car, and then blame it on Jake later?
Silence. Just a blank stare.
“Sweetheart,” I said, softening my tone and running my fingers through her wavy hair, “you create something new every single day. I just can’t keep all of it. But you know what? The really special pieces can go on the fridge!” I quietly added, “And the rest will just go in the garbage,” hoping she didn’t catch that part.
Miraculously, her frown turned into a smile as she replied, “Alright… can I make another picture?”
The fridge has since transformed into an exclusive gallery for Lily and her older brother, Noah’s, finest works. There’s only room for a select few creations, so the older items make way for fresh artwork.
My children have now learned a valuable lesson: not all artwork is created equal, and I won’t be showering them with praise for every crayon scribble. Only the truly exceptional pieces get the honor of fridge display. They beam with pride when their work earns that prestigious spot, and I enjoy a less cluttered home—plus, I can finally stop sifting through the trash.
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In summary, the journey of managing my kids’ artwork has taught me to cherish the truly special pieces while keeping my home organized and clutter-free. Embracing the balance between creativity and practicality has made parenting a little easier.
Keyphrase: kids’ artwork in the trash
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