Toddler Trash

About a week ago I stumbled upon a blog.

I was immediately hooked when the first post I read contained the following quote:

"Lots of parenting books don't say that one of the hardest parts of being a parent is waiting until your kids go to sleep to pop half-deflated balloons." (From "Stuff Christians Like")

I laughed out loud because I have learned to dislike the helium balloon with the same passion that Mia and Maggie adore it. In fact, just today I was able to sneak away a balloon animal they received at Homecoming, four weeks ago.

It was purple and nasty looking, all wilted and not looking its heart-holding bear self. It was gross. It will be sorely missed by my two midgets.

Another thing I hadn't realized before I was a parent was that the kids will literally go through the trash to make sure you haven't thrown something important away.

It's constant scrutiny. It's a lot of pressure. It's completely maddening.

Preschoolers make a lot of art projects that hold no resemblance to anything at all. My children, among other skill sets, love to collect common, ordinary rocks. Lately they have also been saving any piece of paper that has a UPC barcode, receipts, and the tags off of newly purchased clothing.

At some point I scream in my head, "enough is enough!" and begin to eye the broken hair clips and special rocks and wilted flower stems with an aggressive "This town's not big enough for the both of us"-type of attitude.

I slowly create a pile of throw-aways on the kitchen counter and then, on the days when our trash can is ready to be emptied, I look at Isaiah and wait until he gives me the nod.

Silently, quickly I gather the collected bits of treasures, double bag them in Wal-Mart bags and then stuff them in the trash can as he empties the bag and heads to the curb with the contraband.

Is the double bagging necessary? Oh yes. They will scrutinize the transparent white bag and, if they see a treasure, the tears will begin.

Or, like a rabid raccoon in search of food, they'll just rip open the trash bag to reclaim their possession. They've done it before, I've seen it with my own eyes.

I tend to believe that once an item is in the trash can it's in a sacred no-man's land, never to be seen or touched again. That's why there's a lid on the trash can.

Mia and Maggie, however, seem to think that the trash can is actually a special present, created just for their rummaging pleasure.

Excuse me while I vomit as I think of all of the things that go into our trash can and wait for Monday and Thursday trash pick up days.

And another moment of silence for the garbage collectors who literally make my life better twice a week. I hope they get a raise. I should write a letter.

Anyway, after Isaiah and I have collaborated on the disposal of said items, we stick to the party line and fake innocence and ignorance when asked where specific things have gone.

Someday, if put under enough pressure, I may tell them there's a Treasure Troll who lives in the walls, peeking at them throughout the day and coveting their belongings. That could be a lot of fun. (Until they knock a hole in the wall trying to recover their belongings)

We've had good success with the establishment and dislike of the Green-Eyed Monster that visits the house when jealousy abounds.

This deception makes me feel so dirty. When will it end?

And at what point do kids put aside their curiosity and sense of entitlement for a healthy distaste for Dumpster diving?! (Or trash can trawling as the case may be)