My seven year old grandson and I have a shared sense of humor, and an appreciation for something silly. He was here the other day and, as little boys usually are, was curious about the things he sees at my place.
He always comments on the number of books on my bookcase, wanting to know if I’ve read them all. He’s a smart kid and likes to read, so appreciates books.
When I am crafting, I end up with bits of thread and yarn that are snipped off in the process. Last weekend I made macramé duck call lanyards for my son. Then it was crocheted owl change purses. I made seven and lost three to the grandkids when I delivered them to my daughter for her friend.
What made us laugh that day was the bright green, plastic garbage can sitting on the table beside my chair. It’s about 6 inches tall, and has wheels and a lid, just like the larger version used to cart garbage to the curb.
“It’s a garbage can,” he said. I explained that I use it for all the bits and pieces of yarn, and he laughed, opening the lid to check for himself.
I’m not sure what my little garbage can was originally intended for, but don’t think it’s garbage, more like pencils or crayons or such.
My grandson’s response was the same as mine when I first saw it in the dollar store. It was just too cute, and it makes me smile to see it sitting on the table, this mini garbage can collecting my mini bits of refuse.
I know, I know, I’m easily amused.