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One of the things I found surprising about having children was the sheer volume of stuff they create. Like a particularly aggressive strain of kudzu, their artistic output will invade every room of your home if you don’t battle it back. We have chalkboard decals on our walls and mini whiteboards and many other reusable canvases. It doesn’t matter. The second your child goes to any kind of day care or school, she will bring something home every day, and you will have to figure out what to do with all those … masterpieces.

Because I am a monster, I delight in throwing my children’s artwork away while they’re sleeping. There’s nothing more satisfying than the clunk of a trash bag full of painted rocks and gluey construction paper falling down a garbage chute.

Let me explain. We live in an apartment without a basement or storage space, and I know that if we didn’t clean out their art bins on a weekly basis, we would be buried under stacks of “Moana” printouts with three scribbles on them. On a monthly basis, we do a more thorough pass through the bins and throw out most of the stuff we didn’t throw out on the first pass.

Because I’m not a total monster, I do take their bigger and more beloved projects and put them on our fridge. Though ultimately most of those are bound for the landfill after they’ve been displayed for a month or two.