be mine

We begin with a rule: if you write an insulting Valentine, you have to do that person’s dishes job for an entire week. And if it’s really rude– you get to clean a bathroom every single day for the rest of February.

Creating paper confections is our most beloved tradition, but with a sarcastic family of pranksters, it’s an inherently risky activity.

My brother Dan sweetened everyone up with his perfectly timed delivery of a St. Louis butter cake– a pastry so delicious that we devoured it with two spoons before forks or plates made it to the table.

Erik seems to pour a year’s worth of repressed creativity into his love notes. I’m convinced that this entire activity works because Erik is enthusiastic about it– if it were just me, they’d laugh me and my glitter glue out the door.

Yes, that’s Erik’s version of Valentine sunshine.

No one can resist sparkly pink paper.

Incredibly serious about his notes, Gabe only uses other people’s scraps.

But Ben keeps him laughing.

It’s a crazy evening that scatters tiny hearts across the kitchen and glitter on our noses.
Gabe and Mary give each other horsey rides across the carpet and Hans hung Valentines from the ceiling and chandelier.
Paper hearts spill out of the mailbox and skitter into the corners.

The rat-heart theme was popular this year. This one can be worn around your neck.

Everyone loved my punch-around-the-page hearts but they gave up on making it work correctly. I’m a pro– I get it right one out of every ten tries.

All of Hansie’s creations hung or spun or did something.

Sweet Xander.

Mary’s are fun just for the spelling: youshallee=usually. Love it.

Like many a nine-year-old, Gabe hates to bathe or change his shirt (which is nice for laundry but sad for hygiene)– Xander offered him the best gift he could think of but Ben refuted it (and offered a few other bits of advice):

And just when I was about to whine that Ben made a card for everyone but me I found one last Valentine tucked in the back of the box.