The art of hoarding

My kid is a hoarderer.

We have known this for awhile. He cried for two days this summer when we suggested to buy new furniture for his room and replace his bookshelf which is not actually meant to hold books but is the changing table I used to wipe his butt on when he was a baby. Thanks to IKEA suggesting it can be a useful piece of furniture once your children are potty trained my son has big plans for it. Apparently he will keep it forever and let his wife display her Barbie doll collection when they are retired and living in Boca Raton in 2089. When we asked him to please pass on his scooter to our neighbor’s two year old he fell apart and we have given up begging to donate the red car which he cannot fit into at all. I have resulted to throwing things away while he is not watching which usually works except on occasion when he comes screaming: ‘MOM where is my fantastic Mr. Fox figurine that I got in the Happy meal in 2009 and have never played with before ever? I put in a safe place in box number 19 under the stairs cause I knew I would turn out to be a huge Wes Anderson fan and I really, really need it. Can you help me look for it?’ So I must keep up with the charade and spend two hours looking for it although you and I both know I gashed it in 2011.

It baffles us how this could be since my husband and I are not really sentimentally attached to things. Sure I have a few pairs of jeans in size 26 stashed on the top shelf of my closet but that’s just being prepared. You see in case of a huge epidemic and general famine I would most likely loose the extra 40 pounds and since all the shops would probably be looted by then I could just wear my old skinny jeans. My husband has been known to house a large collection of books, mixed tapes and a 80’s yellow Walkman to play them on but I think that’s just to keep himself busy while we are stranded in the house during the epidemic outbreak, because there is only so many hours you can stare at your wife’s perfect size 26 behind. But how useful the vintage IKEA changing table will be in this situation? Not much since we probably won’t be allowed to cut it up for firewood. Is it even made out of wood?

Anyways I think I know where Julian gets his hoarding gene from. My grandma invented hoarding. He only ever met her when he was a baby but she must have taught him everything she knew about how to never ever let go on her death bed. I grew up in the house full of stuff. Not vintage shabby chic stuff, more like a newspaper collection from the 60’s that grandma never got the chance to read and kept for when a spot on her calendar opened up in 1989. She once kept a kiwi that went a little too soft and grandpa and I refused to eat just in case we changed our mind. Six months later special forces came in hasmet suits and sealed our apartment for bio hazard materials. She was so glad to have visitors she immediately offered them some kiwi.

Clearly scientific research is right when they say genes skip a generation. Or in Julian’s case two. Never has this been more evident then few weeks ago during the ordeal that was the tooth fairy. But that’s a whole other story…

This entry was posted in The good life.

One Comment

  1. Aneta October 23, 2014 at 07:09 #

    Thanks for the laugh! Great post!

One Trackback

  1. By Tooth Fairy on March 11, 2015 at 23:34

    […] is a collector. You know the kind of guy that just cannot part with stuff. I told you all about his hoarding ways a while ago. He just can’t seem to let go. But he really outdid himself when it comes to his […]

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