Kids Valentines. (stephanie’s version)

As soon as we get into the car they begin to dig through the poorly painted shoebox, their hand disappearing inside the too small hole as they feel around and attempt to pull out the small pieces of paper. Most have already had the candy ripped from them and it’s long gone. Those ones don’t matter any more. They could fall into the crack between the seats for all they care. Some do.

A pile of miniature erasers forms on their lap, next to a sticker and one temporary tattoo and the chemical rush of getting something new mixes with the sugar rush of cupcakes and has them too excited when compared to what they’re holding.

I pretend to ooo and aah at each super tiny eraser shaped like something specific that is completely impractical, because I’m not trying to blatantly suck the happiness from kids, especially not my own, but when I’m picking up the wrappers and day old Valentines from the back seat of my car, abandoned as trash next to the french fries, I’m annoyed.