Pride and Prejudice: A Note of Thanks

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"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. . . . I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime."  

~ Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice Chapter 26

Everyone loves a thank you note.  There is something magical about a handwritten and sincere declaration of thanks.  Somehow seeing gratitude penned to paper makes all the thought or work or money or time spent on someone's behalf worth it. 

Of course, I say all of this as a complete hypocrite.  

For the hundreds of people that attended my wedding almost 20 years ago, I think I only managed to send out 10 thank you notes.  Yes, 10.  I know, I know.  I'm a horrible, ungrateful, miserable person with the self-discipline of a sloth.  If I could go back in time and change things, I would.  (While I was at it, I would also change my wedding dress, colors, and makeup.)  But I can't.  So the only choice I have now is to learn from my mistakes.

Well, this week was an opportunity to prove my thank-you-note-writing mettle.  It was teacher appreciation week at the elementary school.  I don't know about you, but I can't think of anyone who deserves a thank you note more than a teacher.

However, after spending ample time in my kids' classrooms this year, I also knew that this thank you note had to pack a real punch.  34 eight-year-olds in one classroom can be brutal.  Heaven knows I'm not up to the task.  So I decided to augment my thank you notes with chocolate.  (Which, really, shouldn't ALL thank you notes come with chocolate?)

I went to my favorite little cupcake bakery and grabbed two of these.  They are called "Lil' Devil Cupcakes."  They are dense devil's food cake cupcakes filled with cream and then topped with mounds of smooth buttercream.  Oh yeah.

I then attached a note to the top with colorful ribbon that read:

For you . . . 

Because we know being a teacher is no "cake walk"!

Thank you for all you do!

I'm sure it didn't make up for all the sass and silliness and smells that my little darlings have brought into the classroom, but at least I tried to gratefully acknowledge their teachers.

It's more than I can say to all those people who gave me the salad spinners, the waffle irons, the crock pots, and the cookbooks almost two decades ago.  Wherever you are, dear gifters, I thank you.

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