After a full weekend of Birthday Fun involving a day at the wonderful world of Shamu, a dinner out at “Ruby’s on the bridge” (as the new three year old calls his favorite place–which sits at the end of our pier) and time spent with another little tow-headed three year old (“my very best friend ever and ever“), I thought I should tackle the explosion pile of junk that formerly kept residency in the cab of our four-door truck.

This, my friends, is the result:


Pictured:

Two beach towels, a sippy cup, five or ten works of art (brought home from Sunday School and the ChildWatch program at the gym… and promptly forgotten), a stack of junk mail three inches tall, several cards and letters, a few bills, a bib, sheet music, sunscreen, fancy smelling lotion, a jacket, two pairs of baby shorts (clean, too–what’s up with THAT?), three hats, a Pilates mat, a seat cover for spinning class, a uncomfortable carseat pillow, a funky hat (given to a child by an 18yo uncle who didn’t want it… so it can clutter MY house now. Thanks bunches, 18yo uncle), a golf ball (we don’t golf…ever), a ring sling, a bag of baby wipes, two wooden helicopters, and a big Target bag filled with old receipts, tissues, granola bar wrappers, stray toy packaging, paper cups and (don’t shoot me) a dried out banana peel.

So, um, what’s in YOUR car?

Please, someone, tell me I’m not the only one.

Anyone?

Crickets chirp…

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