Three times a year, B's (B is my kid), school holds an event called Flea Market. The students have to make something to sell, and at the end of the year, all funds raised go to a charity. Each student has their own table to sell their wares, and they have to man it. Meaning, no hovering parents (me), can help sell their stuff. They also get to purchase items, so they need to juggle the time when they are at their booth, and when they want to shop.
This is B's second Flea Market (the first one was before this blog, so I'll post that one up later), and we decided to re-use the left over muslin bags I had from a baby shower. The polka-dots were already stamped on from the baby shower, so that wasn't on purpose. We were looking through a craft book and saw a checkers board stamped on fabric. Since the bags are small, we brainstormed for smaller games and B came up with Tic-Tac-Toe.
We started a few days before the event, and with a fabric marker and ruler, B drew the lines on the bag. I helped by drawing two dots for him to connect, and yes, I held my breath every time he drew a line. With one more day to prepare, we got wood buttons from the craft store and he drew X's and O's on each one. Each one meaning, he drew on 100 freakin' buttons. He also wrote the words Tic-Tac-Toe on my writing tablet so that we could make labels for each bag. B punched out the tags, which took FOREVER. Did you know that it's hard for little hands to use those punching tools? I totally take my hand strength for granted. ;)
He wrote his signs and decided to sell these suckers for $0.50 a piece... can you believe? $0.50?! What a bargain! And all while we were working on this, he was practicing his lines for a skit for the school talent show. He even mentioned that he had a tummy ache, but insisted on finishing his project.
And he did. He finished making his goods the night before the flea market and went to sleep. Three hours later, he threw up all over himself and his bed.
My husband took all the bedding to the backyard to hose it off while I cleaned B up in the bathroom. He was freaking out, crying, and asked, "No Flea Market tomorrow?"
As I put him in the bath tub and looked down at his fabric marker stained fingers, I said, "No sweetie. No Flea Market tomorrow. But we will save it for the next one."
Some vomit got past the sheet protector and onto the mattress, so we had to spray bleach on it. We quarantined the barf and bleach stink room, and made up a bed in the family room for B and I to sleep. He yelled out in his sleep all night, and woke up two times crying. He held onto my arm and went back to sleep.