Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and while to some people it is a huge deal filled with candy, flowers and expensive dinners, or to others it might be a cringe-worthy day that you wish you could hide under the covers with a pint of ice cream. Whichever way you fall out on it, hey, I’m not judging.

I personally, don’t pay it much attention to it, but my kids sure do. My tradition each year with them, is the big Whitman’s Sampler, along with a card that pop-outs as big as I can find. Don’t know why, I really love those, and the bigger the better.

My ten cents on the day and what I take away from it, has probably changed from when I was in middle school, to my single-twenties, until now. To me now, it is a day to remind my kids that they are loved.  And isn’t love about the little things and the small moments through out each day.

These are a few of the highlights:

  • My older daughter spent two hours helping my younger daughter get her Valentine’s ready for her class. Really, a solid two hours of no arguing! They left a giant mess afterwards, and left me cleaning the basement with them after, but I’ll take it.
  • I started the day with a carpool on the way to school with my daughter and my neighbors’ children. I was so lucky to be greeted by a 7-year-old boy with Happy Valentine’s Day and a sweet smile. Not having boys myself, it really melted my heart, and then he handed me a snowball.
  • Being told by my 9-year old that she really really didn’t want me to come help out at the Valentine’s party in school. You know, because I can be embarrassing sometimes.
  • At the supermarket, I was given a red rose on the way out. Nice gesture, until it blew away out of the cart and landed in a puddle. I did pick it up anyway.
  • I ran my usual errands, and probably sent a few more heart emojis out to friends, but all good,
  • My girls and I celebrated the day with dinner out. We had awesome hamburgers and then giant milkshakes for dessert. The waitress really loved, when my daughter thought an Angus burger was called an Anus Burger. Yeah, pretty sure she will never live that down.

We went home, ate some (or a lot) of the Whitman’s Sampler, and watched some reality TV.  Perfect Valentine’s Day to me.

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Author: Natalie Golub

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