Blog

Maecenas sed diam eget risus varius blandit sit amet non magna. Sed posuere consectetur est at lobortis. Donec ullamcorper nulla non metus auctor fringilla. Curabitur blandit tempus porttitor. Sagittis lacus vel augue laoreet rutrum faucibus dolor auctor.

4000 Stickers

4000 Stickers it reads. Four freaking thousand…How is that possible?

I honestly can’t think of 4000 of anything I’d like in my home. And as you can guess, these stickers are for kids. One over-zealous, sticker-frenzied kid.

One kid with 4000 stickers.

I’ll bet her home is lovely.

I’m sure her mom looks at those stickers and says to herself “I’ve always wanted 4,000 shitty stickers on my coffee table. No please put 25 or 125 more. I see an empty space on one of the legs that’s damn near broken”

Giving a kid 4000 stickers is like giving a drum set or a pair of pet rats. It’s a torture gift or a clueless “I don’t have kids yet” torture gift. Either way it induces the parents to imagine themselves punching you in your rested face.

Years ago when my daughter was 2, we took her to Trader Joe's with us to get the classy 2 Buck Chuck. We took her to get wine because we are top notch parents but that’s beside the point.

The clerk gave us a roll of stickers. Like, the whole roll. About 300 stickers. I thought “That was so sweet”.

That heifer was really a no count, evil woman cause those Trader Joe’s stickers covered every surface until one night, halfway thru a glass of shiraz, I bugged out and peeled them all off…took me 2 hours. I said “Fuck these fucking stickers!!!”. My husband thought I had a mental break. From then on I refused to even entertain sticker nonsense.

 That was 2010.

My three year old (circa 2012) thinks stickers are bad for him. Now that’s a lie but I think I still have time on this one and that’s all that counts to me.

Next time you’re invited to the home of those smug-ass friends that became smug-ass parents that go on and on about Little Wolfie’s DJ lessons or Ava’s new gluten free diet, bust out 4000 stickers, give them “Deuces” and be out.

You’ll never be invited back

But then that is the point.

 

Hollie Harper