I am not always the very worst mom in the entire world. Granted, my baby hasn't had her nails trimmed in several weeks, I just realized that my son hasn't been taking his calcium supplements for oh, a YEAR now, and my husband had to pick up tooth fairy slack this past week when I spaced not only on Iz's first front tooth-losing and all related subterfuge and follow-up, but on the second as well (the second is more understandable as she swallowed it).
But I don't always entirely suck. Witness the below: a code with which to track down all the clues in her advent box. (A code which does suck as I whipped out in five minutes, but as she's six she doesn't care.) I wrote it out the evening of Dec. 1st after she started wondering why Santa hadn't put out her advent box yet. Said box has a wee giftie drawer for each of the twenty-four days leading up to Christmas. The next morning she found this key, a clue, and had herself a short hunt leading to her very own egg separator.
I think it would be very funny if people were to write her short letters in her code. It would lend weight to my line that Santa created it, not me, and that he's distributed it to certain types of parents (i.e., that slim cross section containing both cool cats and Santaphiles). Let me know if you need her snail mail address.
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