My 8 year old daughter has a cowboy hat. She wears it once in a while. Most often, though, she likes to see how it looks on the floor. You name the floor, it's been there. For a long time. Days, in fact. Hallway floor, front-room floor, toy-room floor, etc., etc.
I, as a mother, have taken the oath that I will NOT pick up my children's toys or belongings. I, as a mother, have the compulsive need to find out just how long something has to sit around in everyone's way before it is actually taken care of. I, as a mother, get fed up and begin to nag - all the while keeping my promise not to pick up my child's things. Of course, if I DO resort to picking up their possession, it is either to throw it away or hold it for ransom.
Last week, I told my daughter that if I were to find her beloved cowboy hat on the floor again, it would find its way out of the house via the trash can. I am happy to say that she has listened to my words and I have not found it on any floor in our home since.
Tonight, I opened up my spare refrigerator and there, on the bottom shelf, lay the cowboy hat - upside down filled halfway with brussell sprouts.
You think I'm kidding?
Welcome to...my life.