I made a sweep through the house to pick things up.

I picked up two Star Wars action figures who were tied together with fishing line.  I picked up an empty vanilla yogurt container with a quarter stuck inside of it.  I picked up a pencil that had a thick wad of paper towels bound to the end of it.  When I asked about THAT, the boy said, “Oh.  It’s a torch.  Cousin W showed me how to make them, but don’t worry because it doesn’t have lighter fluid on it.”  I also picked up a disposable water bottle with a hole burned plum through the cap, thanks to the small, handheld kitchen torch we borrowed from some friends to put the grand finale on the creme brulee this week.  I picked up a pile of magnets that had paperclips stuck all over them.  I picked up ONE soccer cleat.  No one seems to know where the other one might be.  I also found a little cup filled with chunks of pears and then filled with water FROZEN IN MY FREEZER.

And then THIS is how I found the boy’s bathrobe.

Because why would we hang it up nicely, when we can tie it in knots and suspend it off of the bathroom towel bar?  I tried to untie it, but I jeopardized my new manicure, so I gave that one up.  The boy has a book on tying knots, and he has studied it intently.  He knows how to tie a knot TO LAST.

I adore boys, people.

I love that boy from the top of his head to the tip of his tiny toes, and I know that I will miss finding VERY STRANGE THINGS around my house when he leaves for Harvard.  All I can say is that families who only have LITTLE GIRLS must be terribly BORED when they clean house, as they pick up dolls and teacups.  You know, NORMAL TOYS.