Daisy's current summer camp program involves frequent field trips. Last week they took a trip to Pier 39 (a local tourist trap) and the nearby beach. She brought a few dollars of spending cash, anticipating that she'd want to buy some piece of crap at one of the myriad of Crap Stores that populate Pier 39.
Of course the last thing Daisy needs is more crap. Although she's getting better about it, she's always been a bit of a pack rat. It has been a struggle over the years to convince her to let go of old items such as too-small clothing, or worn toothbrushes. I'm wary of each new item that comes into her possession, anticipating the inevitable struggle that will occur when it's time to let go of the broken slinky, smooth rock, or colorful bit of plastic.
So, she came home from her field trip and we had this conversation:
Daisy: Daddy, want to see what I got on my field trip?
Daisy: (digging through her backpack) Look! Beach glass!
Daisy: (spreading out a dozen pieces of broken glass) Don't worry! We checked them and they're safe!
Me: You bought... broken.... glass?
Daisy: No. I found them on the beach!
Me: You brought home... broken.... glass?
Daisy: No! It's BEACH glass! They're smoooooooth!
I fingered one of the pieces of broken glass. It was, I guess, smooth as far as broken glass goes.
Me: So, what are you planning to do with all this broken glass?
Daisy: Start a collection!
Me: Does your mother know about this?
Daisy: Uh... I believe so. (note: she did not)
Me: Ugh. Just put this somewhere safe, ok?
Daisy: (beaming) Okay!
She scooped up her beach glass and carried it up to her room, dropping a few pieces as she went.
Me: DON'T DROP BROKEN GLASS IN THE HOUSE!
Daisy: Okay! Okay!
Good lord. I can't believe they haven't revoked my parenting license.