A comment on Carly's blog about saving a note from her young son (so she would have something to take the edge off when he turned 17 and wrecked the car) reminded me of something my mom did for us before she passed away. One year, for Christmas, she gave us our own scrapbooks. These were things she collected over the years, from the time we were toddlers scribbling on newspaper with crayons, to when we wrote articles for the high school newspaper. She had arranged them chronologically, and some of the stuff was hilarious.
This past summer, when I was showing some friends all my early "creations" I stumbled on something I hadn't noticed before. A decorated folder that I had mistaken for a picture was actually stuffed with hand-made Valentine's Day cards.
I'm not sure if they still do this in the first grade or not, but to avoid turning it into a popularity contest, it was a rule that everyone had to give everyone else a card. No exceptions. Boy or girl, you gave them a card. It didn't matter if you hated them or liked them. You gave them a card.
These were "cards" only in the most generous terms. Most of the time it was a folded piece of paper with a heart and a "Happy Valentine's Day" on the outside, and a "Have a happy day, your friend [insert name here]" on the inside.
This was my favorite:
Apparently, in the first grade I was a dick. Who knew?