My children hate throwing things out. An empty cereal box can be re-purposed. The plastic wrapping on a magazine can be used to choke a sibling. They watch me like hawks to make sure that I don’t illicitly dispose of things.
Daniel said to me the other night, “You’re not a real Irish Mammy.” As I mentioned before, I received “The Book of Irish Mammies” for my birthday and the children are measuring me against it and, regrettably, generally finding it a very good fit, so I was rather pleased when he said this but a bit surprised too. “Why not?” I asked. “Because you are always throwing things out.”
All I can say is, if I’m always throwing things out, why do we have so much stuff?
🙂 Good for you.
I have sessions of illicitly throwing out my children’s dreadful artworks. I’m a bad mother, aren’t I? (Actually I preserve a selection in a folder so we can trace the emergence of their genius, but there is a bit of an over-production problem, not to mention a scribbling problem.)
I suspect they take after their grandmother.
Dot, I know, I have folders too but over production is definitely an issue.
N, both their grandmothers, I assure you.
It must skip a generation. A and I wrangled this morning over an ancient fleece-type coat of his which I wanted to give to charity. ‘It’s very useful in cold weather,’ he said. I pointed out that we’ve just had the coldest winter in 30 years and I haven’t seen him wear it once, but he held firm.
I suppose an inability to discard old, worn-out things is a good trait in a husband though.
Make him wear it to the first communion. Am dying to see. Weather is also appropriate. Arctic today and it’s mid-May!