Crafty Bitch

My Instagram feed is full of Marvellous Mums creating ah-ma-zing crafts with their little kiddos.  In the run up to Easter this has gone into overdrive and the crafty stuff they’ve been up to is mesmerising. One made this Easter wreath with her 2 year old. It was a marvel. All eggs, flowers and pretty pastel colours. Spring on a wreath for her front door. Fuck me.

It’s left me feeling quite guilty that I don’t engage in these activities with my own 2 year old. That’s what nursery is for right? I’m not particularly ‘crafty’ and I tend to buy stuff rather than make it. I couldn’t find Easter wreaths in the shops though- not on that level. It was seriously amazing.

So, a few weeks ago, wracked with guilt that I was letting the little dude down, I started a craft box. My craft box consisted of any bits of old crap that one day I might fashion into something with the ‘help’ of his tiny hands. Shoe boxes- embarrassingly in a few weeks there were 5 in there. Bits of card, string, yoghurt pots, you name it- it went in. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it but it helped ease the guilt. I was also determined not to go out and buy stuff. I was going to get ‘creative’.

With Insta mums ramping up their skills I stepped into action. Good Friday was the day. We were going to make some sort of card for each of the Nans. Let’s do this. I got the craft box out of its hiding place and looked at it blankly. We didn’t have any glue. We did have sellotape and that’s sticky too so that will have to do. And it’s less messy. I can see it on my Instagram now: “Hi Guys- My top craft tip is to use sellotape instead of glue. No chance of your toddler gluing their hand to the table. Your welcome.”

Toddler was shouting “LETS GET MAKING!” Because I had enthusiastically warmed him up for the last half hour during breakfast. He pulled everything out of the craft box and it just looked like recycling that we hadn’t put in the green bin yet. Abysmal. But Insta Mums were plaguing me and I wasn’t about to give up now.

A bunny. An Easter bunny we will make. I have cotton wool that we can use for the tail. Perfect. I cut two circles from one of the shoe boxes, making a rookie error not to draw my template on the back of the card. You can see pen line. Never mind. I cut out some ears- actually Husband did those, my hands were hurting from the scissors.

Meanwhile, toddler had unravelled the whole ball of string and was twirling around the kitchen with it like a rhythmical gymnast but without the grace. He also had it round his neck. Brilliant. There was sellotape pulled from the holder and screwed up in a ball. Totally fine. Doesn’t even bother me. Breathe.

BUT , he stuck the ears on and the tail and said “That’s a Bunny”- YES IT IS!!! It was starting to look like one. It wasn’t a nice spring pastel shade but the acid lime green of an Adidas trainer box. But oh well. He said “You are doing really well Mummy”- mimicking the kind ladies at nursery and I was oddly proud of myself. Husband was enjoying himself too- he’d cut out some grass to cover up the sellotape.

We put a gift tag around its neck like some ritual ceremony. All staring at it. It simply read “Happy Easter”. We were weirdly elated. It was shit. Proper shit. But we did it together. The three of us. It didn’t cost us anything and we invented it ourselves.

Toddler was hopping around the kitchen with it now shouting “Easter Bunny”.

Up yours Insta Mums. Up yours. It may not be a dazzling wreath for our door, but it’s our little bunny and Nanny better not throw it in the bin.

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