A place for everything

Our car is a mess, as is every car that ferries little people around each day. Although goldfish crumbs make up a significant portion of the floorboard mulch, I would estimate that, by weight if not volume, we chauffeur enough toys around town to seriously affect our gas mileage. Our three in-car Woody dolls say "Eat that, Mother Earth!"

We now limit each boy to one toy in-hand per car trip, usually a Cars car or a stuffed animal. Most times these things find their way to the floorboard before we get back to the house. They lie there for months until I overcome the insanely high activation energy required to rid the car of clutter. It's a hobby of our pal Anthony's to inspect our backseat whenever we'd get together. "Whatcha got in there today, Miss Claire?" He is always seriously disappointed if I'd cleaned.

Isaac is the self-appointed Safety Officer for the toy cargo. "Mommy, my Mickey needs a seat belt, too." He tries to insist that Mickey or Woody or Buzz or Teddy Bear should ride in the dinky seat space between the car seats, but I usually suggest that his friend of choice is the safest on his lap.

As we ran errands today, the boys and I finished off a bag of gummy bears left in the car from our trip home. I found a red gummy bear for Isaac, and apparently its safety also needed to be kept in mind.

"Mommy," he told me, "I'm keeping my gummy bear safe. It has a special seat in my mouth."