It's a sign

Tomorrow my boys will join with the rest of our small town in the participation of the homecoming parade. They will get to sit on floats and throw candy at the multitudes (and probably snitch a few pieces for themselves). They will don their uniforms and display their handmade signs. And, really, it's those blankety-blank signs I'd like to talk about. Last year, I drew the letters for Weston, but otherwise let him decorate his completely on his own, with whatever markers he could find that still had ink. When we got to the parade, I saw that all of the professional sign maker moms had done the work for their boys and had stepped it up with glitter and rhinestones and ribbons and dozens of other cute craft implements I'm sure I don't even know the names of. I wasn't ashamed of Weston's sign, and he was very proud to have done it himself, but this year, I thought I'd at least get out the Crayola paints so the boys' posters would show up better amongst all those professional ones. (My boys still did all the decorating themselves, because that's how we roll around here). A few minutes into the project, I remembered why that paint lives on a high shelf in the storage closet and why we don't really do painting projects in the Watts' home. The kids' school desk and several articles of clothing, including those of a child who wasn't even involved in the project, were covered in purple "washable" paint, which I know perfectly well is just a label they put on that stuff to dupe weary, gullible, guilt-ridden parents into buying it. I can only thank God that I didn't have the ridiculous notion to pull out the glitter!