Call Me a Sentimental Old Fool

My husband and I are in a holding pattern right now, ready to hop in the car and head to Nashville as soon as we get the call that says our youngest son is about to become a daddy.

I was organizing a drawer in my kitchen this morning, one that has a bunch of random utensils and miscellaneous cooking gadgetry in it (everything from toothpicks to measuring cups and spoons to those little holders you put on the ends of ears of hot corn on the cob).  I think I was inspired by our middle son's wife, who is in the process of settling into their new house and has been fitting all of her pristine new kitchen drawers with organizational containers and dividers and such.  A place for everything, and everything in its place, if you will.  I was making a quiche and opened the drawer to get out some measuring spoons for the spices, and it was a bit of a mess in there.  So I sorted through everything until it made sense, and in the process what did I find but this stainless steel baby spoon that I'd totally forgotten I had.

It's not just ANY spoon, you see.  It's engraved with the name of the hospital where our youngest son was born, along with the year: 1993.  (1993 or yesterday?  Potato, po-tah-to.)

For 30 years--30 years!--I've held onto this spoon, a parting gift from the hospital where our last baby was born.  And I'm sure the reason I've done so is that I thought eventually, he would have babies of his own and they could use the spoon he used.  I haven't looked at it once in the six years we've lived in this VA house, and I'm just thrilled that I found it quite by accident today.

So that's going into my suitcase for this upcoming trip, obviously!

Another item I'm going to pack is a stuffed baby Simba that this same son of ours got for Christmas when he was two and a Lion King fanatic to the nth degree.  He wasn't a big stuffed animal guy, though (none of our boys were), so it looks like new after 28 years of languishing in a closet. I didn't ever pass it on to any of our little nieces and nephews, or even to our grandchildren, because I was saving it for him.  The day when he might need it for his own children always seemed so, so far into the future, but I was patient...and incredibly, that future is now!  

Maybe our new little granddaughter will love on this stuffed Simba fiercely enough that he will finally look his age!

Am I a sentimental old fool for holding onto so many mementos from our boys' childhood days?   Maybe.  You can call me that, I don't mind.  If the shoe fits and all that good stuff.