Ode to Sequins

So Ella's method of decorating with sequins is to carefully place a few drops of glue on her artwork and then dump the small tupperware of sequins on the whole page. It's like survival of the sequin fittest. The lucky ones get stuck in the glue, the rest are casualties that get pushed onto the table and forgotten. 

Tonight, there was a disaster in which 5 freaking gazillion various-sized sequins were spilled onto the carpet. Not surprisingly, Peyton and Ella were putting minimal energy into the clean-up effort. Not wanting to waste the next half hour of my life picking craft bling out of the carpet, I told them that they had until the count of 10 to save as many sequins as possible before the vacuum got them. Besides, I hadn't vacuumed in an entire day so there was already a variety of cereal bits on the floor. I started counting as I got out the vacuum. "Hurry, Hurry, Save Them!" I honestly thought this would be a fun solution. My kids usually respond well to this sort of tactic.

I was very, very, wrong. As I got close to the end of the count, Peyton started sobbing, "I want to pick up all the sequins! I don't want to throw any away!"

And because I'm THAT parent, "Honey, when you run out of sequins, I'll buy you some more."

Still sobbing, "No, I never want to throw them away. I never want them to go in the garbage truck. They are my favorite thing in the whole house!" He collapses into my lap, "I just need love, Mommy. All I need is love." 

I give him a big cuddly hug and because I'm teaching my child about the virtues of equality, I say, "Look, we picked up the big ones, those are the best ones anyway."

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He's still crying, but it's bath time, and we need to move on.  "I'll pick up a few more before I vacuum." 

Part of me is thinking: Sequins? Seriously? Suck it up, kid. I really need to be more strict. 

But a bigger part of me feels sorry for him. I've had irrational sadness before. I can relate to how he's feeling. Sometimes it's hard to be a kid.

Five minutes later, during bath time:

"Mommy, I love sequins. They are round and I love round things. They are like sugar plums. " I totally swear, I'm not making this up. 

Five minutes later, I still haven't vacuumed and he's still in the bath. 

He starts crying, "Right now, I'm thinking about you vacuuming. Even when I was playing, I was still thinking about it. I'm still a little sad."

And because I didn't want to pay for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder therapy for my son in 15 years, when he got out of the bath I helped him pick up the rest of the 5 freaking gazillion various-sized sequins.