Fourth Annual Valen-bots Extravaganza

I think kindergarten was where I gained my love for Valentine's Day. I was in Mrs. Williamson's half-day class at Iona Elementary, in what is now the Iona city building. We learned a song that taught us how to spell the word "Valentine," and I still remember it today:


Oh, won't you be my V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E?
If you would, you'd surely know how happy I would be!
Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what you are to me,
So won't you be my V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E?

There's a fun little story about this song. I was so proud that I knew how to spell such a big word that I decided to emblazon my precociousness in a place for all to see: the door of my parents' newly-repainted station wagon. Oh yes. I scratched the word "Valentine" on the door of the car with a rock (or maybe it was a nail?) . . . to make it last. I remember that the V was really big, and each subsequent letter got a little smaller, until the "e" at the end was fairly miniscule. I can still remember my dad standing over me, with an odd, strained sort of smile, saying, "Don't. Ever. Do that. Again." Oh fadre, such good memories. The above picture is of me coming home from kindergarten in 1984--you can see our cocker spaniel, Kirby, who was only 8 months old at the time.

On the first Family Home Evening of February, for the past three years, we have had a lesson about showing our love and appreciation for each other. Then we pile the kitchen table with scissors, glue, markers, pipe cleaners, and sundry household items, to create our Valentine's boxes, which usually have a robotesque look to them. We write notes to each other and put them in the Valen-bots up until the fateful and fanciful February 14th, when we empty the robots and read our Valentine's Day cards. It's one of my favorite family traditions, and this year was the best year, yet--because both boys understood and were excited to make their own "robots."

So here's a trip back in Valen-time (clever, I know) with photos of our Valen-bots through the years. Cast your votes for your favorites at the bottom of the sidebar!

2005

I only have a picture of my Valen-bot from this year, because Allen never finished his (imagine a foil-covered contraption accompanying Allen's signature duct tape look). But I do have a picture of him making his--and you can see Truman's scribble-covered box in the foreground on the table. Doncha just wanna squeeze baby Brigham's cheeks?

2006

I re-used the "Allen on the brain" picture that I made in 2005, but the overall robot had a different feel to it. I love the hair on Allen's robot. It's those finishing touches that make it special.

2007

Truman insisted on making a rocket for his box this year, and it didn't get thrown away with the other Valentine's boxes at the end of February . . . he played with it for months until it, er, blasted into outer-waste. My robot this year was named T.U.R.T.L.E. (Tender Unabashed Righteous True Love Eternal). And Allen continued to expand his line of duct-tapey bots.

2008

For our FHE lesson this week, we showed the boys a picture of Jesus washing his disciples' feet, and told them that one of the best ways to show people we love them is to serve them. It was a simple lesson, but a really sweet one. We talked about ways that we serve one another and explained that Valentine cards were a good way to express love and gratitude to one another.

Brigham got on board the Valen-bot boat this year with a shoe box in his favorite color: bright orange. All I did was poke holes in the lid--he put all the pipe cleaners in himself and even strung one with beads. It took him quite a while and he was completely engrossed (I may make this an activity for him on regular days). Truman used some castoff wheels to make a rocket car, then pasted three blue hearts that he drew on the outside. We'll have to roll up our Valentine cards to Truman and stuff them inside, like so many messages in bottles. Allen and I didn't finish our bots until the kids were in bed, and then next morning when Truman got up, he pointed to our finished products and told Brigham, "The cool robot is Mom's and the other one is Dad's." Allen and I both laughed: me with barely-suppressed triumph and him with barely suppressed dejection. You decide who's is who's.