Is it art?

Yesterday I went to an art festival with my dad. It was pretty okay I suppose but I get tired of Group of Seven-inspired landscapes and if I saw another giant blown-up daffodil/tulip/generic flower painting I swear I was going to run out of there screaming for mercy.

Overall…my opinion was that there CAN be too many pretty pictures in one place at one time. It was sensory overload.

Otherwise, I can only report a boring rainy weekend with little to recommend it except that Alex’s sweater is FINALLY coming along. I had to rip back about 6 inches below each front shoulder and re-knit. Then I messed up the collar by second guessing the pattern (wouldn’t you when you end up knitting the instructions marked the “girl’s sweater” AND the colours they listed didn’t match either sweater in the picture?) but apparently the collar instructions were correct. Frogged it and re-knit it.

And we (as in the kids and I) went to the fabric store and bought the terrible horrible no good very bad zipper. Which is lying on my dining room table. And I think it’s laughing at me but I’m trying not to look directly at it in case I’m right.

Now. Can someone please tell me how to explain to my children that although they are in level 5 and 8 in swimming right now…that because the city is revamping its lesson structure, they are to register in levels 4 and 5 for their next classes? Six and eight-year olds do NOT comprehend how this could possibly happen. From their point of view, not only are they failing to progress, but they are actually going backwards.

Also. Is it just me or are 8-year old girls different than they used to be? For example: Saturday morning we stop at the fabric store and Madeline is nothing short of enthralled. First, she wanted to buy a zipper. I finally convinced her that a zipper is hardly a useful thing to own unless you are going to sew it into something. (She doesn’t realize that I do NOT want another Zipper in my house because…well let’s be honest…they scare me a bit). So she bought a funky cow measuring tape, convinced Alex to buy himself the happy face one, and a pin shaped like a flip flop. She has decided to give these to Selene (her so-called stepmother) for mother’s day.

In conclusion:

Since when do 8-year olds a) spend money on measuring tapes and b) voluntarily spend their hard-earned money on other people?
What the hell is she going to give ME for mother’s day since it seems she never chooses to spend her allowance from Daddy’s house on anything besides old troll dolls and popsicles?

If I’m really lucky…maybe I’ll get a giant flower painting.