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I throw away my child’s art. Don’t you even look at me like that.

I’m not even ashamed. I planned it too and I’m proud of my execution as it was a carefully crafted deceit. I orchestrated how I would get the drawings from the kitchen clutter drawer to the bin. I thought about which ones needed to go and how I’d get a square cereal box covered in lolly sticks and glitter, into a round bin and importantly what contingency plan I had in case she caught me.

They’re not the same as you envisaged which is why they find themselves hidden deep within an Aldi binbag, gunning it at 88 to a landfill site not far from Milton Keynes.

Before Ruby was born I thought of the glorious time she would return from nursery with a wonky drawing of us both, on a summer’s day, holding hands with a rainbow and flowers in the background. I thought of how amazing it be, taking pride of place on the fridge, smack bang in the centre for all to see.

Yeah, that doesn’t happen, not at least before the age of 5 anyway. Instead you’re inundated with a plague of beige scrap paper, none of which are square and all with one singular scrawl on it in faint brown Crayola. The nursery staff love handing it over – collection time is accompanied with “Don’t forget to empty your drawer”. How can it possibly need emptying, we only did it 24 hours ago?!

And then a gleeful 4-year-old wanders over, arms full of absolutely diabolical drawings, “Oh lovely, can’t wait to see these” I reply. Fast forward to getting home and the drawings have been dumped, she doesn’t care for them anymore.  Bedtime comes around, the snoring angel is down and Operation Landfill can commence. I swoop into action, assessing the situation in the dead of night, covert and unnoticed, I methodically sort through the day’s plague.

It became apparent on a particular day that it was ‘glitter day’. What the f*ck was this stuff, nobody told me about this – paranoid thoughts started to infect my brain: “Do they know? Is this the beginning of a bigger picture? How the fuck am I going to get this glitter off my hands?” The operation suddenly took a turn for the worse as the B-52 bomber full of glitter dropped its payload all over the kitchen. It was everywhere. Abort or continue – I was already covered in glitter, and she’d notice as it’s a well known fact it that glitter never comes off your face.

I continued the mission, throwing away an entire rain forest of paper with ineligible drawings on.  Word of advice, don’t leave them at the top of the bin, hide them deep and cover them in a deep cavern of rubbish and waste. Children will see it and you’ll have to deal with “WHAAT?! Why are all my drawings in the bin Daddy?”

Only lies will help you now…

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Michael runs Satirical advice and honest reviews. Not very strict parent. Once let a 4-year-old play Grand Theft Auto.

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