Too Much of a Good Thing

I need a new house.

The one I have is very nice, and generally roomy. It's just that my kids are 4 and 6, and, well, the artwork is really starting to pile up.

I'm afraid to throw anything out. I have no compunction about tossing my worn-out clothes, my college textbooks are long gone, and I don't save a single magazine, after I've read it. But I can't bring myself to part with a single scribble, when it comes to my kids' creations.

I'm afraid of them, is the problem.

I was caught once. It wasn't pretty. I'd slipped one of the less spectacular pieces into the trash, just to make a bit of room on the refrigerator for some of the newer stuff, and forgot to adequately cover my tracks.

I'm telling you, if you want to remove kid art from your house, you have to wait till midnight, and it's best to use an incinerator (I hear you can rent them for just a couple hundred bucks. I'm telling you, It's worth it.) Even a fireplace isn't safe. If they find remnants in there, you're toast.

We passed critical mass last year, when the box count for kid art surpassed the box count for Christmas decorations. And that's not even taking into account the pressboard masterpieces my son amassed during his year of art lessons. I'm actually saving those for when we start the addition - ought to cut our materials cost in half.

My son happens to be pretty good at drawing and painting. I had originally thought that this was a great thing. Strengthens the right brain, fosters creativity, and all that crap. What it IS, I can now safely say, is a huge pain in the rear. What pushed me over the edge was the life-size Styrofoam T-Rex sculpture. What am I supposed to do with THIS? The darn thing takes up the entire foyer, and I'm pretty sure it's pregnant.

You have to be really careful. Because anything you say is "good," no matter how much pressure you're under at the time, must automatically be saved. Forever. Period. So the first thing you have to learn is EUPHEMISMS. Never say: good, wonderful, beautiful… Say: interesting, colorful, or creative. That way you have a chance later when you get cornered. Then all you have to do is refer back to the Clinton interviews for tips about weaseling out of blame, based on semantics.

If you think you can just save the stuff until they move out, and then present them as a sentimental parting gift, think again. I have it on authority that this sort of thing is interpreted as treason, and can sometimes result in a 2-star penalty in nursing homes, when the time comes. It's like sending them off into the world with all your photographs of them: "Here Honey, we won't be needing these any more…"

No, you're stuck. So if you know what's good for you, you'll confiscate the crayons immediately and BURY them in the back yard. Remove all paper goods, including paper plates (notorious for hideous artistic creations that take up extra vertical space.) In fact, it's safer to just not have ANY writing instruments readily available. It may be inconvenient, but it's for your own good.

Threaten your friends and relatives that art supplies will be rejected at the door. Consider installing one of those airport x-ray machines, or at the very least, frisk them on the way in.

School can be a real source of consternation, as well. They're always sending home all kinds of papers with stars and happy faces liberally sprinkled all over the place. Meaning, you guessed it, more ballast. So it really is best to keep them out of school as much as possible.

Even with incredible vigilance, you're going to be overrun by precious papers. If you're like me, and would PREFER to have only a representative selection, the best thing you can do is make sure to have lots of relatives. Preferably gullible ones who will sign for a largish parcel before they know what's inside.

And when all else fails, choose a good contractor, and be sure to put in lots of shelving.