Preschool was in a Methodist church and my parents got called in to the 'principal's office' one day. A very concerned preschool director told my Mom and Dad that my scissor skills were not even close to those of a normal five year old. The way the story is retold goes something like this: "Your Mom and I looked at the director, and told her we'd be going. 'Corey is two.'" So I was tall, apparently I passed for a five year old. Perhaps my verbal skills were way advanced (clearly destined for a life in television).
I was reminded of this story as I questioned my current 'scissor skills' while preparing crafts to make Valentines for the Grandparents. Cutting out hearts. Shouldn't be hard. Fold the paper in half, cut the heart out. I was never good at art. I am still not good. The good news is that it doesn't matter. Cannon doesn't know the difference between a symetrical and asymetrical heart. The grandparents may but will be so blown away by his artistic skill level and the glitter they won't notice my poor scissor skills. Maybe the preschool was on to something.
The Best part? Glitter in the mouth, marker in the mouth, glue in the mouth, it's like he kissed all the Valentines.