A few months after Noah was born I decided to make him a scrapbook. I scoured the aisles at Michael’s for stickers and dye-cuts and special scissors with ruffled edges. Every night after Noah was finally settled into his crib, I sat at the dining room table, construction paper littering the floor at my feet, and I scrapped.
The problem was, I hated every minute of it.
Nothing turned out like I had envisioned. I didn’t have a creative eye for matching papers and pictures. Everything I cut wit...
Published on April 14, 2016 03:00