Our house has a very strict one in one out rule, not so much with children, we let Henry in and still kept Thomas but definitely with the ‘art’ the children create.
I have never been one of those sentimental people who feels that hoarding everything in the loft space is a good idea, in-fact the quicker I can get the monstrosities out the better!
I’m not being a smug bitch or anything but I could totally make a better space ship out of empty toilet rolls than any of my kids, I choose not too because WHO THE FUCK NEEDS A TOILET ROLL TUBE SPACE ROCKET?!
Don’t get me wrong some things I keep for a while before they get ‘Lost’ or ‘blow away when the backdoor opens’. Things like cards at Christmas and mothers day that they make at school, I’m a total advocate of keeping those to look back on when my two boys have abandoned me and I’m a lonely old spinster with fifteen cats. If nothing else they will come in handy if I run out of cat litter, however is it really mean of me to recycle a piece of A3 paper with one scribble on it that that quite frankly son looks nothing like spiderman. Or the bad guys he is apparently fighting. In fact it simply looks like a purple line on a massive piece of paper.
A) When did Spiderman start wearing purple?
B) How can one purple line on a massive piece of paper be representative of several different characters? I’m no art dealer by any means but I’m pretty sure even the most contemporary of artists are required to go into a little more detail before it can seriously be classed as a masterpiece!
If I kept everything the boys made I would be fighting my way through the paper mountains every morning to get to the kettle and that my friends would never end well!
Coffee before Art any day, in fact coffee before life most days!
Unfortunately the inevitable has happened and Thomas has now started to pick up on the fact his small van gough inspired masterpieces keep going missing:
“Mummy, where do all my pictures go when they come off the fridge?”
*Trying to get to the kitchen and retrieve screaming, teething toddler some calpol, manoeuvring ninja style through the contents of toys r us which are spewed all over the lounge floor*
“In the bin lad”
*cringe as I realise I made the mistake of telling my six year old the actual truth*
*throws head in hands, starts to try and force out tears, looks at me like I’m the reason poverty and war exist*
“Why do you hate me so much mum?”
Seriously it was one fucking line on a massive piece of paper.