The glitter reflected the light like a setting sun shining through a thousand icicles. Rising over the letters beautifully scripted with school glue, the different colors bled together and formed the most magnificent piece of art, right on my kitchen counter. It was stunning, truly. It was also lunchtime. I was hungry, I was tired, and the four-year-old at my elbow had just knocked over a second jar of glitter. There was glitter on the counter, glitter on her hands, glitter on the floor, on my pants, even a dusting on the wall.