Skip to main content

Why do my children hoard useless things?

Today I attempted the dreary task of tidying up The Pink Pit (aka the kids' bedroom). This is what I found in Firstborn's desk:

  1. 14 taxi cards
  2. 3 empty packs of Smarties
  3. 6 crumpled tinfoil balls
  4. 7 rubber bands (the ones the postman thoughtfully leaves scattered on the floor in the communal entrace of our building)
  5. 23 random bits of torn up paper, one with "ur sillee" written on it
  6. 7 dried-up felt-tip pens
  7. The Autumn-Winter '07 Boden catalogue
  8. 3 random business cards (stolen from my purse, I suspect)
  9. My library card (given up as lost months ago, paid £5 for a new one)
  10. My gym locker combi-lock (ditto)
  11. 9 scrumpled up bits of tissue
  12. 8 sheets of used stickers
  13. 1 pink Hello Kitty sock
  14. 7 letters from school (none of which I'd seen before)
  15. £1.32 in small change
  16. Half a banana, slightly furry
  17. Living-etc magazine, May issue
  18. Alpha's 'DIY Doctor' manual (in pristine condition, ahem)
  19. 2 empty packs of Teddy Pom Pom crisps
  20. 1 old Council Tax bill
  21. 1 headless Barbie

Where does this strange hoarding instinct for rubbish come from? What's the appeal? Is it early onset slob-ism or full-blown kleptomania? Should I be concerned?

Pass me the Pinot, sweetie, this parenting lark is way too weighty for this particular slummy mummy.

Comments

Unknown said…
My 5-year-old has a draw in his bedside cabinet that is full to brimming with party bags tat.
He absolutely loves all those cheap plastic whistles, men with parachutes, rings, tattoos, badges and keyrings.
And if ever I try to throw any of it away, well, let's just say I have a battle on my hands.
Kate B. said…
Yes, what is the endless fascination with the tat that comes with those dratted party bags. The chocolate and tooth-rotting lollies I can understand, but the rest of the useless rubbish they pile in is beyond me.

The only solution is to offer a bribe of a more acceptable toy in return for the drawer full of junk - you could just do a stealthy sweep and then look innocent when your small darling demands to know where the tat is, but this can be a risky strategy.

Good luck!
I was about to say thank god I've found someone else with weird children, but then I read your comments.....no more tat, never fear, the frog is here.
www.froginthefield.co.uk.

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...