Our Little Boy has a problem. We are seeking to remedy it, but currently we are unsure that there is a cure or any treatment. It may be something we have to suffer until he moves out of our home.
It seems our sweet Little Boy has inherited the Pack-Rat Gene. And it's invading our home.
The Assistant Gardener and I are the anti-pack-rat. Throwing away is therapeutic, organizing is bliss, and an uncluttered minimalist home is beautiful.
Little Boy didn't inherit that gene. Instead he's taking after past generations (and a few cousins) and has become real life genuine pack-rat.
It all started with my tupperware and other plastic containers disappearing from my kitchen. Then I noticed Little Boy's hot wheel cars disappearing. I discovered he was filling tupperware with cars and stashing them on the top shelf in his closet. I took a deep breath and refrained from emptying the containers and putting them back everything back where it belongs. I also took a deep breath and vowed to stop looking on the top shelf in his closet.
That was just the tip of the iceberg. Soon, water bottles full of sticks, flowers, rocks, and leaves made their way to the top shelf. Books disappeared from our office bookshelf and were found in the closet. Coins, junk mail, strips of paper, rocks, pinecones, sticks were soon found on the top shelf in Little Boy's closet. When toys started disappearing from Fat Girl's room, guess where we found them?
A couple weeks ago, I left $60 on Steve's dresser and when I went to claim it a few days later, it was gone. Steve confessed to taking $20 of it for lunch, but said the rest was still there. It wasn't. We searched high and low until Steve suggested we look in Little Boy's closet. We did. And we found it. Not only is Little Boy a pack-rat, but he's apparently also a little Klepto.
The collections have spilled out onto Little Boy's dresser now. He borrowed Fat Girl's purse to hold all of his pinecones (maybe he did inherit a little bit of the organizing gene), and rocks and sticks have become a permanent fixture there.
As hard as it is for me---the borderline OCD mom who must have control---I have allowed this mess to continue. It's his room, afterall. But, when the pack-ratting migrates to my kitchen counter, things must change. This mom can't just take a deep breath to get through that.
As cute as I find it that after Little Boy has gathered ziploc bags full of leaves he declares it "Leaf Day," tells everyone "Happy Leaf Day!," and even makes Leaf Day cards, I still cannot relinquish control. I'm just not that cool of a mom.
We continue to hope and pray that Little Boy will outgrow this and be the organized-non-pack-ratting individual we know he has the potential to be.
Until then, we'll put on a happy face and wish you a Happy Leaf Day!