The kids and I recently made sidewalk chalk.
I know. Such ambition
chalks shocks even me.
You see, I hate crafts. Always have. And despite my best efforts to be THAT mom, I always will.
I grew up with a domestic goddess mother so renowned that she opened the most acclaimed English tea rooms and gift shops in the city. Such domesticity must have skipped a generation because my daughter Hadley shares my mom’s talent. In an effort to support her ambitions, I recently sent her to art camp.
You know. So I wouldn’t have to do it with her.
Hadley had her birthday late-May and when people asked me what to buy, I cheerfully replied, “Get her anything to do with crafts.” This plan completely flopped because I forgot to include the important provision that “No parental involvement should be required.”
Every single one of her projects requires major supervision.
I’m ashamed to admit her beloved presents have sat all summer until one morning, I waxed ambitious. “Let’s make sidewalk chalk!” I proclaimed, pointing to her kit. “Really?” Hadley suspiciously queried, looking like the world must be coming to an end for me to be volunteering my services.
How tough could it be? The kit contained