You see, my dear children spent a bit of time in the card store by themselves last week, while I was stuck in a snafu of a checkout line at the supermarket. When I eventually popped in to pay for their selections, they were quite secretive about their choices and promptly hid them upon returning home.
I remembered that shopping expedition this morning, when their father received this lovely card celebrating the spirit of the season:
The interior goes on from there, to complement him on how wonderful he is, and what a great job he is doing, how appreciative they are, etc. etc. Lovely sentiments, all.
Meanwhile, MY card from the boys looked liked this:
And breezily wished me a happy Valentine's Day from the people that "usually caused me to make that face." Not even a word of apology or remorse, mind you!
I had ample time to think about the irony of this situation today as I washed dirty plates, picked up stinky socks, put away crumpled papers and washed practically every item in their wardrobe. No doubt the look on my face was quite similar. The truth hurts, I suppose.
p.s. Thanks for all the notes of concern and well wishes. It was a rocky weekend but I am finally on the mend!