hoarding

When I was a teenager and my brother was about 8 years old, I discovered that he had been stealing little things from everyone in the family (and probably kids at school, too) and hiding them under his pillow. He was always a little thief and a pyro - he stole cigarettes from my grandpa, and smoked them, when he was 7, and we always had to keep lighters hidden far away from the time he was a toddler on. Under his pillow I found rocks, matches, rubber bands, paper clips, toy cars, hi-bounce balls, money, keyrings, and a little pocket knife. But this post isn't about my poor, neglected, whacked-out baby brother. Oh no. This one's about Tristan.



Tristan's had a fascination with hiding things since before he could walk. He'd scoot across the floor with a cookie in his hand and toss it in the clean laundry basket for tomorrow (or, you know, two months from now). At every diaper change he would bring a toy along and gleefully drop it behind the dresser. So it was no surprise that when he started walking, he found a super-cool spot to drop things. Next to our entertainment center (a stately monstrosity of cherry-finish particle board that is the nicest piece of furniture we will probably ever own, courtesy of the in-laws), there is a stack of boxes that contains our still-unpacked collection of CDs. Behind that is a few inches of space , a floor lamp, and the wall. Tristan is obsessed with tossing anything and everything behind those boxes. Every night I have to engage in a massive recovery effort if I ever want to see his shoes again, or load up the dishwasher. Until recently, the boxes of CDs were taped shut. Then, John decided to make a CD DATABASE! containing a list of all the albums we own, what year they were released, who produced them and on what record label they were pressed. (Why? Because he's a boy. And he's been out of work for five months. Even Metroid Prime can't hold someone's interest for THAT long.) Anyway.



Tonight, Lisa asked me to recommend some good girl pop. I happily obliged, and asked John to fetch a few albums by that dog, The Cardigans, and Go Sailor (among others**) so I could pick the very best songs off each of them. Upon opening the C-thru-H box, he immediately beckoned me to the living room, so that I might have a look at this:







In this box we have, in no particular order:



2002 Ohio Candidate Requirements Pamphlet, flyer announcing a Breast-Feeding trailer at the county fair (yes, you DID read that correctly, a mobile home you could enter to whip out your tit), and a card reading "Stick With John! Re-Elect John Elmlinger Huron County Advisor" which used to contain a "stick" of gum.... these were all taken from a bag of junk I brought home from the county fair last summer, and handed Tristan in an act of desperation last week



Two pacifiers



Two cylindrical shape-sorter blocks



One toy tiger



A little toy sailor man



Water Squirting Duck and his pal, Water Squirting Frog



Red plastic ball



Dropper bottle of baby Tylenol



5-ounce baby bottle, half full of water - this has been missing since last Thursday. I assumed he had eaten it, like he did with all his socks.



Oh, and a Fugazi CD I took away from him about a month ago and dropped in there. Hey, at least he has good taste.



So apparently, this hoarding instinct runs in the family. Lucky, lucky me. Time to hide the matches.



**see also: Veruca Salt, Sam Phillips, Lisa Loeb, Velocity Girl, Lush, bis, Belly, and Luscious Jackson.