One Man's Junk is Another Man's...Whadda Ya Call It?

Last night, I was driving Nicholas home from his Robotics meeting. I asked him, when we pulled into the driveway, to make sure he brought in all his junk from the car. (All three of the kids are notorious for leaving random stuff in the car--books, shoes, socks, combs, snacks--or remnants thereof--etc. I often rationalize this by thinking that if we broke down in the middle of nowhere, we'd be able to survive quite nicely for awhile, left to our own devices, with the supplies that would surely be found somewhere in the van.)

As I was saying, before I so rudely interrupted myself, I asked Nicholas to bring in all of his junk. He turned and looked at me in all sincerity and said, "I don't have junk, Mom. I have stuff of minimal importance." I just love the stuff that falls out of these kids' mouths, especially when they're not even trying to be funny or cute!

(But still--take your stuff of minimal importance into the house. Really.)