Went back to see my parents early for Christmas, and had a bit of fun rifling through all the awful ornaments I made when I was young. I decided to share. First, we picked out a tree:
Then the ornaments came out. My parents have a wonderful collection of beautiful, meaningful, lovingly crafted ornaments. And then there’s these.
I saved the worst for last.
I think that middle one was meant to be a potpourri ball. My conclusion is, there should be a rule. Anything made before the age of 10 ought to be destroyed when the child reaches 18. Or at least by 30.
Not everything was horrible ornaments. I met my parents’ new dog, Viggo, visited my grandparents, revisited childhood Christmas toys, and took a lovely train ride back. Here are some other, less hilariously bad photos.
And now I’m back in New York.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
