I’ve started to wonder what other mothers keep in their art boxes (I’m also wondering what else finds its way into party bags, after hearing about a mum who gave each child a live goldfish as a party favour – but that’s a whole new blog post).
I know there are crafty and not-so-crafty mothers, and I like to think I fall somewhere in between, but, somehow, my craft box always seems to be lacking something.
I bring tonnes of used paper home from work, which would otherwise go into the shredder, and I buy felt pens, pencils, glitter, etc, when I remember, but lately I’ve started wondering if I should be thinking outside the crayon and marker aisle.
This was brought home to me at approximately 5.15pm this evening – that joyous, twilighty zone when you’re busy with dinner, crabby kids and homework, and your offspring are hell-bent on pushing your buttons.
Nearly there, I’m thinking to myself, imagining that first sip of soothing sauvignon blanc sending post-bedtime relief coursing through my veins.
“Mum!” my oldest bellows. “I forgot to tell you. I’ve got a project to do. I have to make an igloo, out of marshmallows.”
Hmm, timely, I think – given that it’ll soon be hotter than Hades in the UAE, and it’s nearly dinnertime.
“I have to take it in tomorrow. The teacher says so. Everyone else has done theirs’.”….. “I kept forgetting to tell you,” he says, in a quieter voice at least.
So, attempting to fake enthusiasm, I hurriedly spread newspaper over the dining table, find some cardboard, and try to creatively suggest how we can fashion an igloo out of marshmallows, glue and sellotape. (Could be worse, I decide; we could be making the Burj Khalifa out of yogurt pots).
It’s beginning to take shape; I thank my lucky stars that I actually have marshmallows in the house and skirt round the request for cotton wool snow by producing some toilet tissue (voila!). Then BB tells me about Xavier’s igloo.
“His is the best,” he says, clearly impressed. “Xavier used an upside-down china bowl for the igloo, and there’s a blue river running round it – made out of diamonds.”
Diamonds? Seriously? Could you get any flashier? Oh how very Dubai.