Give me a sign.

I came downstairs the other day and found this paper on the playroom floor:


At first I didn’t know what to think, so I decided to assume it was a spelling error.

After much thought, I realized that my children were beginning to take after me.  You may recall these photos from previous posts:




I make signs.  To quote my earlier post… “When something does not make me happy, I make a sign.  Oh yeah?… Well, (scribble, scribble, grab tape, slap on wall) take that!”

Oh, and charts, too.  Here’s what my kitchen wall looks like now, with daily schedules for each of my children.  (Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as prison camp as it might appear.)


So, I figured out pretty quickly that the party, thank goodness, was really for making signs, not sins.

And when I came home later that day after some child-free errands, that’s when I knew for sure that my children were becoming little mini-MEs in training.  Behold the party favors I found on walls (and refrigerators) throughout my home:


Sigh.  I love my kids.