Awww...you're a sweetheart, ghostie.

I bowed my head and had a good chuckle. Thanks for sharing that little gem. How precious kids are!

Thanks.
I'm getting soft in my old age.

Yep, my response to this thread was going to be 'neurosis'.

I feel a rant coming on.

On the one hand, it's nice having stuff from your childhood. You can look through boxes and think, aw, I remember that! Isn't that neat! But on the other hand, it can bog you down and drive you INSANE.

My mom died a little over a year ago. I am still cleaning out her condo. I have boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff from my childhood. I was an only child, so everything I ever did, apparently, was precious. When we moved her from the house where I grew up to a condo, I tossed out many trash bags full of old school papers and projects, but to keep her happy, I kept a lot as well. I have at least three large Rubbermaid tubs full of photos, three more of papers, cards, letters, certificates and whatnot. I have a box of baby toys, a box of baby shoes, and it just goes on and on.

I hate to toss it out because I enjoy looking at the stuff that was my parents', not that there's nearly as much, so I imagine that one day my kids might enjoy looking through my stuff too.

My husband, OTOH, doesn't have any. Nothing. Why? His parents' house blew up. Literally exploded, in 1989. They were in the house at the time. They were burned and shaken up, but OK. All of their stuff, gone. They rebuilt on the site but the only childhood photos he has are the ones his relatives were given through the years; they made copies and gave them to him. There aren't many. It's sad, but sometimes I envy him!

I had to add this -- my mom also kept a journal of my first two-three years or so, starting from my newborn baby schedule, first laugh, etc., up to the funny things I said. It's fun to read.

I know I've written tons of stuff about my kids over the years, but most of it's been in e-mails and I don't have many of them saved. :(

I guess the thing I've owned the longest is a pair of hemostats, you know, fancified, medical equivalent to a roach clip. Had it (them?) about twenty-five years. I'm 41 this month. Also have a shoebox of old Hot Wheels/Matchbox cars. One is worth about $50, but for $50 I'll keep it.

Recently returned to Pop by his mother, however, is this set of hand carved toy guns/gun rack/and axe. They were carved by his great-grandfather. The axe is one piece, as is the gun rack. Circa about 1940.

At the bottom is a 6-inch scale for, well, scale. Apologies for the smudges and grime.

Tips on Clearing out Clutter
 

Evaluating what to get rid of,,,

1- Does this thing work?
2- Would I replace it if it were broken or lost?
3- Does it seem potentially useful—but never actually gets used?
4- Was I “saving” it?
5- Does it serve its purpose well?
6- Has it been replaced by a better model?
7- Is it nicely put away in an out-of-the-way place?
8- Does this memento actually prompt any memories?
9- Have I ever used this thing?

Further explained at http://zenhabits.net/identify-clutter/

I still have a box of Lego bricks from my childhood.

I'll give that to my nephew next year

My mom did the same thing. She notes that on my fourth birthday, I asked for a baseball club (bat), I called milk "noot," and upon seeing my first Mounds bar, commented "Oooh. It looks kinda dead."

:D

As for stuff from my childhood, I have tons of it sprinkled around all over the house. This is partly due to my own not being able to toss any of it, AND to the fact that my mother regularly sifts through her own crap, and when she finds things of mine from way back when, sends them to me. Says she's tired of storing all my junk, and now it's my turn. (Of course, SHE'S the one who kept it; not me!)

:rolleyes:

When we cleaned out my dad's house after he died, I found a few things from my childhood, some drawings that had been stuck in a photo album, a book that had gotten put on the wrong shelf and sat there for 40 years, but not much else. My sisters went through the house about 20 years ago and pretty much threw everything out in some kind of feng shui mania. My dad was pissed, it wasn't their place, and he liked his clutter.

I love the scene in Amelie when the old man is re-united with his childhood toys.