I have ranted several times about the fact that my daughter is a packrat. Every time we go to Safeway, she collects as many of the Mix & Match ads that she can. I've never understood it, but have seen no real harm in this unique obsession. Until today.
We went to Safeway this afternoon for a few things. As usual, my daughter collected her specimens. When we got home, they landed on the counter in the kitchen while she disappeared into her room. While cleaning up the counter, I threw them, along with some other junk in the garbage.
Wouldn't you know it - darling girl child just happened to notice her beloved papers in the garbage can. Hannah - who happens to have a very big gross reflex - managed to remove them from the garbage. She let me know in no uncertain terms that it was very wrong of me to throw out her papers.
To be honest, I really didn't know the extent of her obsession. If I did, I would have been more sneaky. But it prompted a discussion between us. I found out she has a very extensive collection of these stockpiled in her bedroom.
I have been warning her for some time now that in the very near future, I will be doing a very thorough cleaning of her bedroom. She has always been a bit put-out that Seth's room takes a very short time to clean, and I've told her that it's because of her huge JUNK PILE that keeps piling up every few days. I am really not joking about this. One of these days I will take a picture of the little treasures on her desk, dresser and under her bed and post it. She cannot keep her room clean because she cannot get rid of her junk. I, on the other hand, will have absolutely no problem at all doing it. I will send her to grandmas for the day (because I'm quite certain it will take me that long) and try to sincerely help her grieve when she gets home. This will NOT continue. I am determined.
And so, goodbye to Mix & Match.
One little story about Seth. Both of them had their storytimes taken away tonight for having selective hearing. They went to bed right after their baths tonight. On the way to bed with my son, I carried him into his room (tradition), he turned off the light (again, tradition), and said:
"Mom, that sure was a great story tonight, wasn't it?"
At least the little imp is easily consoled.