The Day I Drowned in Flamingos

We are knee-deep in flamingos. Yep – pink ones. You know the birds that are pink and stand on one leg…from the Tropics? Every month Isabella gets an issue of Ranger Rick, the kid’s magazine that I remember reading as a kid. Most of the time, it collects dust on our coffee table until it gets moved around enough to be thrown away. One afternoon I was flipping through her latest issue with unusual interest and a homemade Valentine caught my eye. The “completed project” is a pink flamingo made with feathers, 2 hearts (glued back to back); pipe cleaners; a little construction paper beak, and 2 very tiny squiggly eyes….you get the idea. Well I must have been feeling particularly ambitious because I was convinced this would be an easy project to complete for Isabella’s coming Valentine’s party. This morning we went to the local craft store and spent a whopping $7 and purchased enough pipe cleaners, construction paper, feathers, and craft glue to make 35 valentines. Okay there I stumble across my problem. 35 of these little craft projects, and that is at the very least. That’s 35 beaks, 70 legs, 70 hearts, and don’t even get me started on how many little squiggly (teeny-tiny) eyes I need to glue. So my coffee table looks like it has been taken over by a scrapbook company, and the day of the party, there will be 35 children who will take one look at my hard work and think, “Where’s my candy?” and toss it out. Isabella wrote “from Isabella” about 20 times and then said “I’m tiiiiiiirrred!” promptly put down her pencil, and walked away. Meanwhile asking every 15 minutes “Mom, when will you be finished? Wow that is a lot of work, huh?” Seriously? And of course, we have to make enough for grandmas and grandpas and the elderly lady across the street, and the drama teacher and the girl scout leader, and…..well you get my point. I think we are up to making at least 45 flamingos now. I am in it too far now to back out. I have at least 5 solid hours invested and a little girl who thinks I am the cat’s meow. That will make it all worth it. It beats the heck out of tar on my car.