You don't say

India wanted to make her own valentines this year, so yesterday we bought fun colored paper and all these glitter glue pens.

What is it about glitter that makes it so endlessly compelling? Who can pass it up? Not us.

(And now that I say that, maybe it is like trauma memoirs, and not actually a universal preference. Whatever. I love the glitter.)

India threw herself into the project with delight. I cut out the hearts and she went about layering colors of glue all over them. They were all abstract, save one.

"Oh, India, your valentines are all gorgeous!"

"Thank you, Mama."

"I particularly love this one! Is this a dancer on this card?"

"That is not a dancer."

"Well, to me it looks like a beautiful dancer!"

 "Mama." Serious look. "That's Jesus."

Oh.