As I was trying to figure out what the heck to ramble on about in today's post, I pulled up some photos from last October and discovered that the Brat Child's choice of treasures seems to run to the same items.
Feathers and dead crabs.
It's good that he's so darn cute.
It helps lessen the gross factor when he puts dead things in my pocket.
Note: I must confess that as a child, I would routinely find dead horseshoe crabs (there used to be a plethora of horseshoe crabs back in the day). I would take those dead crabs home to Baltimore where I would then take them to show and tell at school. Dead horseshoe crabs don't smell nice when they've been in the sun, transported in the covered bed of a pick-up truck for 5 hours and left in a black garbage bag on top of the trash can outside in the sun.