I’m all foralphabet artwork, but it’s always bugged me that the images are of things kids will most likely (and sometimes hopefully) never encounter in their daily lives. Never seen an alligator on the street, not even once. And certainly not a yodeler.
Hip kid art is hard to come by, hip personalized kid art even harder. But it’s exactly what you’ll find at the appropriately named Hip Kid Art.
As a mama-to-be once again, I am suddenly remembering how absolutely every concern about childbirth and beyond is magnified by sixteen million. It’s not inconceivable that you experience as much anxiety over picking the right pacifier as you do picking the right pediatrician.
My 2-year-old daughter thinks that everything mustfollow a specific theme and lately, it’s dinosaurs. Pink or purple, only. However, have youtried finding pink or purple dinosaur anything these days–that’s not the bloated guy in the suit?
While we tend to gravitate towards monsters and robots more than princesses and ballerinas in our household, there’s something entirely capitvating about the little girl art of Colorado artist and mom Carla Sonheim.
I’ve always believed there’s something special about a child’s name. While my daughter’s name is not "a family name" but rather just one we both agreed on (which was a feat in and of itself), it still feels as if it were meant for her, both in its sound, meaning, and intent.
I’m always thrilled to bits to get personal, handwritten notes. But I can’t help but snicker when I get a thank you note supposedly written in first-person by a newborn. Are the new parents already outsourcing their chores to these (clearly gifted) children? Call me a skeptic, but I’m pretty sure I can recognize adult handwriting.
My kitchen is overflowing with useful but highly unattractive items designed to clean, sanitize, and organize baby feeding paraphernalia. I’m sure visitors wonder what kind of illicit chemistry lab we’re running with all the clinical looking gizmos and gadgets covering every inch of counter space. Fortunately, our friends at Skip*Hop – yes, makers of those great diaper bags – have brought harmony back to the kitchen.
Ever since having a kid, I find we’re going through four times the tissues. Maybe it’s because someone’s always got a cold. Maybe because someone’s always spilling something. Or maybe it’s because my cat is acting out in really disgusting ways. (Sorry, carpet.)
I was one of those naive moms-to-be who swore up and down that my tasteful adult abode would never become plastic toy central. "The baby stuff will stay in the baby’s room," I insisted. Ha.