Kids think of the best ideas.
It all started with this book, launching a whole foray into Bee’s fervent mastery of the paper pocket, her small hands folding in and out of frustration over the attempts. After the skill was adequately aced, our home began to resemble a UPS store for a time, dozens of different-sized envelopes, pockets, pouches, folders of all kinds. Can I make a pouch for my grapes? she would ask. Do you need a pocket for your drink? How about a new wallet? Oh! A holder for your chap sticks!
Everything was pocketed, for a time.
Let’s figure out something fun to do with your new hobby, I tell her, knowing full well that play needn’t have a purpose, but also feeling a bit buried in unregulated stationery. The brainstorm began, and within three minutes, it was decided:
Family mail! she declares, masking tape in hand. We can leave love notes in our mail pockets, one for every person in our family! And the mail will come every day always! And we will always have mail!
Like most kid ideas, I assumed the follow-through would be short-lived. Sure, it sounded lovely in theory. The happy kind of mail, day in and day out. Love notes all around, just everyone basking in affirmations left and right. To say nothing of the reading/writing/spelling practice the tradition would afford.
Who cares how long it lasts? I told myself, secretly hoping this one would stick.
Well, it’s stuck. Our garage door is littered with cursive love, perfect timing for a simple little Valentine’s Day fun. Just this morning, I woke up to a note that read “Dear Mom. I love you. I hope you never go eck*.”
And well? I suppose if that doesn’t give you reason enough to tape some paper to a wall, I don’t know what will.
Happy mail day!
*go eck = die.