This past weekend I sorted through some stuff in our basement as we are currently embarking on Basement Remodeling 2011. I’m sure we’ll laugh, we’ll cry, we’ll strangle each other, we’ll drain our savings account. It will be a good time.
Derek has already built the “storage room.” So this weekend I sorted through many a Rubbermaid bin to toss stuff, put stuff in the rummage pile, and just make sure that we’re saving stuff we will actually use.
I made it through our Christmas stuff no problem. But then I attacked the Riley pile.
For months I’ve been packing away baby clothes, toys that he’s too old for, shoes that don’t fit him and Johnny Jump Ups that would damage our house’s structure if we let him use it now.
I opened a few of the bins and peeked inside. I saw cute onesies that he wore often. Like this one:
Oh, and I found that hat, too. Sigh.
I found his monkey shoes!
Ugh, I can’t find a better picture of his monkey shoes, but there he is, stepping onto the ice for the first time in them.
I found his bumbo, his infant car seat, his swing.
I just took me back to the time when he was a baby. Sure, I call him my baby now, he always will be, but he’s most definitely a toddler.
And I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to the idea of using all this stuff again. For another baby who will undoubtably turn into a toddler, a preschooler, an adolescent, a teen, an adult. I’ve always said I would need some major convincing to embark on the insanity that is pregnancy, newbornhood, parenthood again. But maybe….not. I may be easier to convince than I thought. And it’s all because of some little boy and his monkey shoes.