I tried very hard to please my kids on Valentine's day. I didn't have any presents for them. My mom always had valentine presents for us. But I didn't.
So I thought I would make them heart pancakes. Which went over well. So well in fact that I decided to take lunch one step further and make them heart sandwiches complete with a side of heart cheese. (And what did I have for lunch? sandwich and cheese scraps.)
And that was such a success that I decided to go all out for dinner. I was wisely advised by Husband that it wouldn't matter what we ate, the presentation is all that would matter. So I took a trip to the dollar store for valentine plates, goblets, and candles and proceeded to serve leftovers for a candlelight dinner. (he was totally right, by the way. they could have cared less what we ate! although the strawberry daiquiris kind of drew their attention away from the leftovers.)
The flaw in the plan: keeping my children out of the kitchen long enough to surprise them with this spectacular dinner. I originally thought I could assign husband this job. Husband, however, was occupied with screaming baby. So I was left to enforce. Which is never a good thing. Isn't it ironic that I would spend most of the time before this wonderful dinner, made specially to show them that I love them on this holiday to celebrate the love we have for one another, screaming at my children to stay out of the kitchen and forcing them into their bedroom. (which according to Eden is boring despite being PACKED with fun toys that they cannot bear to give away, no matter what). Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of the whole thing?