Attachments

It's amazing to me how attached we become to things. I've been cleaning out my boys' toys lately, getting rid of things they don't play with anymore to make room for all the new ones they got for Christmas. I ran across several toys that they haven't touched in quite some time that I had a hard time putting in the 'get rid of' pile. They aren't even my toys! But, they have memories attached to them. I remember when Little Man got the airplane for Christmas the boys played with it nonstop for weeks pushing each other around the house on it. Or the cars that Papa gave them for Christmas. That was the first toy that Little Man remembered who gave it to him. He took such pride in that. Or the stick horses. I remember how funny it was to watch the boys ride them around the house with nothing but a diaper on. Now it's time to bless someone else with those memories. It's so hard to let go. I just want to put everything in a box so I can pull it out every now and then and remember...

Then, there are the toys that I couldn't wait to get rid of. I couldn't just give them away without talking to the boys first. They used to be prized toys. The boys would notice if they were missing. I put them in a pile and asked them which ones they wanted to keep. "All of them," came the matter-of-fact reply from Bubby. I realized then that I worded my question wrong. I should have asked which ones they wanted to give away. Maybe I would have had a more favorable response. Why did I expect them to give away their toys when I was having a hard time with it? So we will keep noisy microphones another year, along with the surplus of cars and trucks that boys have to have.

So...my things next? I'm not so sure. If I have such a hard time with toys that aren't mine, how do I expect to successfully clear out my own things? Maybe another day...