This piece of cardboard here on the floor it two feet tall by four feet long. One side has been watercolor painted with an undersea garden theme. There is a chunk out of the corner. The other side is resplendent with stickers and glitter glue. Today alone it was a rug, a house for a three year old, a house for Barbie and all her friends, a skirt, a surf board, and I am pretty sure I caught Tennessee trying to tent the dog with it. It came out of the packaging of an IKEA dresser I put together in front of the kids (no cussing allowed, or at least no F word).
I have slipped on this stupid thing more times than I care to share. It is trash night. If I sneak it out of the house in the setting sun, I have pretty good odds that I will not be seen by the children. I will put it in the recycling bin, I promise…quit with the eyebrows already. I meant trash and recycling night. If I recycle it, Tennessee will surely forget it ever existed. Lucy, and her giant 5.5 year old brain will not. I will have to tell her I recycled it. Then she will say, “Mama! I was still reusing that! Mama it is good for the earf!” Cotton picking do-gooder kindergarten teacher and her earthy, earthingston ways. The cardboard will live another day, but I swear, if I slip on it one more time, it sleeps with the fishes. (Oh stop, I am not really going to throw it in the river.)