A few months ago, Nico discovered the magic of stickers. Suddenly, he was able to decorate everything in the house without “Mama” screaming, “What on earth have you done to the wall/tv/couch/door/dog/chandelier!” Life became a great deal more pleasant, colorful, and entertaining for about a day. The morning after the sticker discovery, “Mama” and “Baba/Daddy” discovered stickers in their bed, stickers on the bottom of their socks, and most uncomfortably, stickers in little bodily crevices where no stickers ought go, and just like that the magic was over (for us more than Nico, I suppose, who remained enchanted for quite sometime afterward).
The stickers have managed to survive. They’re all over the couch and the coffee table, some times they “star” for a day or two on tv, and doing a “sticker check” of my daily outfits has become a habit. Thankfully, though, Nico has also managed to get past the initial sticker addiction in which he was whining every half hour for another sticker hit. Consider it all a sticker truce.