Hoarding as a genetic trait

I have achieved greatness this weekend: both kids have properly tidy rooms. All surfaces cleared, AND a big wardrobe clear-out. By which I mean, I have reviewed each and every item to see what’s wearable and fits and suits their current tastes. Unsurprisingly, this has resulted in more than half of C’s clothes being ditched, because (a) she’s growing physically and (b) she’s, well, 12. Evolving style is a thing. Horses and butterflies are really not appropriate for a kid who’s already practically in high school, are they now.

Also unsurprisingly, this has resulted in maybe one pair of shorts leaving M’s wardrobe,* because (a) he is lengthening but not so much filling out, so even if there’s a bit of arm or leg sticking out at the end there, it’s still technically wearable, and (b) he is very very attached to his old clothes. Very. He doesn’t want to stop wearing them until it becomes physically uncomfortable (and he’s surprisingly tolerant of a snug fit), and even then, I’m not allowed to actually get rid. He’s absolutely firm on this point. KEEP IT. He knows he will never again wear it… but absolutely has to keep it.

I just two weeks ago managed to do a big cellar clear-out and convince A to finally let go of some things he’d been hoarding for years. Things like an old duvet that he used to sleep under when he visited his dad, as a kid. Think about that. An old, lightly stained, single duvet. We’ve been lugging that thing around with us through (…counts…) six moves in two countries. We haven’t actually been using it. But until now** I was never able to persuade him to let go. He is, shall we say, a pack rat.

And now apparently I am living with two of them.

* Shorts he’d been wearing literally since he was 3.
** A minor melt-down may have been involved. Maybe not that minor. Look, it worked.

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