Hoarder, beach-comber or plain old womble, my child will pick up any old thing he finds on the floor and treat it like the finest jewel. He doesn’t seem to discriminate, if it’s on the floor and pocket-sized, it’s in. This is today’s haul. Two rubber bands; one brown hair band; two wrappers from sweets eaten in the car en route to pick his dad up from the hospital; a tiny red pom pom; a red piece of plastic and two pieces of yellow drinking straw. All heading for good old file 13 (the bin).

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