I've Been Locked Inside Your Heart Shaped Box

Ba-humbug!

I was never into Valentine's Day.

If there's any holiday that epitomizes the height of capitalism and modern-day marketing, V Day is it. And despite my reverence for both juggernauts, I detested the manufactured holiday on sheer contrarian principle.

How typical of our Puritanical society to reserve passion and love for one measly day!

How lame of people to fall for it, buying over priced roses, all-too-sweet chocolates in heart shaped boxes and being forced to go out for a "romantic" dinner!

What the hell are these people doing the rest of the year? Do they really need an excuse to give flowers, gorge on chocolate and spend quality time with their mates?

What's wrong with people who aren't romantic all the time? What's wrong with people for whom love and lust and passion and fabulous Godiva open oysters (at lord knows what price per pound) isn't a part of their daily routine?

And then I had a kid.

Oh.

Oooooooooooooooh.

I get it.

Why, if there were a prize for queen of V Day, I'd a been a contender. My daughter, who is just about three, fell for the charade hook, line and sinker. And just who propagated the charade, you ask?

Moi.

From letting her stay up late to watch Charlie Brown's something or other Valentine's Day thingie thing to the two heart-shaped cakes we baked to the ceremonial making of the valentines for her school mates, I helmed the evil empire of Hallmark, marching it right into my house to the complete and total delight of my impressionable toddler.

And then there was all the brouhaha that her school made over the day, in conjunction with the hullabaloo that everyone, from servers to check out girls to bank tellers, incited, the perfect red tea roses my dad sent her and the sweet cards her dad gave her.

There was no escaping the love.

And so, as I sit here, hungover from all the sugar of yesterday's antics, tired from a late "romantic" dinner with my man (note: I cannot remember the last time that we were alone together out of the house) and reflecting on the fun I, on behalf of our Puritanical, brain-washing society, fostered for my wide-eyed little girl, I can't help but feel good about it.

My daughter had a damn good day...and, actually, so did I.