My kids go to a school where covering their books in contact is essential. I have often wondered if this is in fact a requirement of the board of studies, the school itself, or if its some sort of test to ascertain just what kind of parenting my kids are actually receiving.
Try as I might, mastering a roll of adhesive plastic is not part of my skill set. When in my life was I supposed to learn the secret contact business? They didn’t offer it as an elective when I was at school and I don’t remember it being on subject selection when I went to uni. How has the system missed providing me the covert covering knowledge? Just what kind of book covering contact voodoo do I need to get it right?
After more than a decade on my hands and knees, scissors and books in hand I still can’t make contact. Honestly, I would have more luck contacting the dead. Every year I create unique patterns in the front of my kid’s books, where the contact sticks together in long rivulets, bubbles and bumps. It always looks like a five year old has done it. On the upside the kids can always tell what subject their book is for by just running their hands over the cover, kind of like a personalised form of braille.
I have five children. You’d think by now I’d be Queen of Contact. Instead I am the woman on the floor wondering how you can have a high IQ but no actual real hands on skills for anything practical. It’s something I hide with well-packed lunchboxes and an extra-special flourish at the Easter hat parade, but the real tell on my failure to provide a bump-free childhood is right there on the cover of my books. And yes, as it turns out you can judge a book by its cover!
