The art comes home faster than I can hang it

Every afternoon my 7-year-old comes home from school and unzips her backpack like she's about to open a gallery. Out comes the art. A leaf rubbing. A worksheet with a gold star on it. A paper plate with something glued to it that I'm told is a pumpkin.

I love all of it. That's the problem.

At first everything went on the fridge. Then the fridge filled up. Then the side of the fridge filled up. Then the pantry door. At one point our kitchen had more paper on it than paint.

My 3-year-old son noticed all of this and wanted in. So now he brings me his art too. His art is mostly one color and a whole lot of commitment. He hands it over like it's a signed contract and then stands there waiting to see where it's going to hang. You cannot say "the recycling" to that face.

I tried the sneaky approach once. Waited until bedtime, picked out a few pieces that were mostly scribbles, and slid them under the recycling. The next morning my daughter found one. She held it up and looked at me like I had thrown out a family photo. Which, to be fair, I kind of had.

So now we have a system. Every piece gets its time on the fridge. When the fridge fills up, I snap a picture of each one and it goes into the digital frame, where it rotates through a slideshow with every masterpiece that came before it. A few of the really special ones get kept for real, in a folder in the closet.

Will we keep every single one forever? No. Am I going to be the one who decides which ones go? Also no.

Last night my son handed me a new one. Brown, mostly. Very committed. I asked him what it was and he said, "You."

That one's going in the frame.