I hate Valentine's Day. There. I said it. I think it's a crappy holiday. It makes you feel terrible if you're single. It stresses you out if you're not. It. Is. The. Worst. Holiday. Ever. It's a day of expectations and disappointments. Even in second grade, when you're hoping the boy you have a crush on will put a little extra note in with your Snoopy Valentine. But, no. It's just signed the way he signed everyone else's.
I wanted to have Valentines for Robbie to take to daycare. Maybe make some cute cookies. Put up decorations. None of it happened. Ironically, the Valentine's decoration that was on our closet door for ten months and only taken down to put up Christmas stockings didn't even make an appearance. And to think I'd left it up that long because I knew eventually it would be in season again...
Robbie made the morning a little brighter, though. He wanted hugs and kisses. And his balloon. When I tried to put him down, he clung to me, screaming, "Down! Down!" He still doesn't know the word "up"... All hopes of a Valentine's reunion at daycare were dashed, however, when he started screaming as soon as he saw me walk through the door. He had drawn me a picture, though. Unfortunately it was all in black crayon. Perfect little cupid...
Robbie was helpful at home, running in circles with a ball, a lawnmower, and, yes, his balloon. And he ate dinner with me while we watched The Berenstein Bears. Balloon in hand.
Justin made it home around 7:45 for an anti-climactic end to the worst holiday ever invented. Just enough time left to sit on the couch and listen to bad 90s music. Bah humbug.
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