Trashy Town

Inexplicably, Owen has decided that trash cans, once again, are really cool. We went through Trash Cans=Heaven when he was 18 months old. That was the time of the delightful trip to the National Zoo. We were all, "Owen! Look! Pandas!" and he was all, "Look at all the trash cans! Take me now, Lord, I've seen it all!"

Anyway, Owen loves the trash cans, which is an unfortunate development, because most of them are filled with the urine or feces of his baby brother. (In diapers, people. Okay, most of the time in diapers.)

I was away from Owen, doing something truly important (cough, Facebook, cough), and when I ventured into his room, he had all the small trashcans lined up, with all the putrid contents on his floor. He was "sorting" the trash--all the used Kleenex in one trash can, Q-tips in another, pee-filled diapers in the third, and, yes, the poop monsters in the fourth.

After I washed Owen in a shower of hand sanitizer, Silkwood style, scrubbing under his fingernails until they were prune-like and raw, I still had to find a way to entertain him until nap time.

Owen said, "Why don't we wash the trash cans?"

It's hard to argue with that kind of logic. Owen was clean, and wanted his dearest friends to be equally sanitary.

We took the trash cans on the deck, and I filled each one with soap and hot water. A panda bear could have emerged from the bushes on a unicycle, juggling slices of birthday cake, and Owen wouldn't have looked up from these bubbly wonders.

It just goes to show you that I truly don't get it. There's books to read, cars to push, blocks to stack, or markers to draw with. There's a recently-constructed, beautiful playhouse, a water table, and a baby swimming pool. There's a fully stocked play kitchen. Let's not forget the train table.

But my kid, when asked, lists the following as his favorite toys:
1) Crock pot
2) Cardboard box
3) Washer and dryer
4) Vacuum cleaner
5) And naturally, the best of all...the trash cans.

It might be time for a garage sale.